


Bearable

by HazelTheHorrific



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Beverly Marsh Knows Everything, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Everyone Loves Mike Hanlon, F/M, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Matchmaker Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon Deserves Nice Things, Mike Hanlon is a Good Friend, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Other, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sassy Stanley Uris, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelTheHorrific/pseuds/HazelTheHorrific
Summary: For Eddie, college is scary. Sure, Portland is only a few hours away from Derry, from his mom, from the only life he's ever known, and sure, he has Bill and Stan at his side, but it's still all new and frightening. He had expected freedom to be something otherworldly, something entirely fantastic and now that he had it he didn't know what to do with himself. Lucky for him, Richie Tozier has lived in Portland for years now and is more than happy to be his tour guide and study partner.It's all fun here- just two idiots falling in love. There won't be any killer clowns or magical turtle gods- right? Just a sappy love story with a happy ending. Just the agonizingly slow falling of Eddie Kasprak for Richie Tozier, struggling through College side by side with a few other Losers to call their family. For sure.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon & Ben Hanscom & Beverly Marsh
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N): Hey guys! So, recently my hyperfixation has been absolutely SNATCHED by IT, especially Richie and Eddie. I just had to write something for them, even if it isn't anything too important and will mostly just be me spilling my heart out on this paper for you all to read. I have some great ideas that I want to write out and so here I am to do it- enjoy, and please please please please give me validation because I don't know if this will be any good or not. 
> 
> Since this is just an AU, for the sake of the story, the seven losers don't all know each other yet. Eddie, Stan and Bill know one another, then Mike, Ben, Beverly and Richie know one another. More will be explained through the story itself, but this is just the little ground information to spare you the confusion. Now- I'll stop talking so that you can actually enjoy. Thanks for being here :)

"Oh, Eddie-bear," His mother is wailing, tears in her eyes, her face bright red with a strange concoction of rage and fear and betrayal even though he didn't do anything wrong, "Why do you do this to me? Why do you hate me?" She surges forwards, hands on his face now, and he finds himself wanting to flinch away. "Why don't you love me enough to stay here with me?" 

"Mommy, I-"

"What did I do wrong? What do I have to change to get you to stay? To love me again?" Any of Eddie's friends would yell at him for feeling bad, for feeling guilt claw through him at the sight of his mother in this state. They would call her manipulative, overbearing, obsessed, controlling- so many negative words fit her right now, but Eddie isn't happy with any of them, he doesn't believe any of them. His mother loves him, he always says, but almost anyone could see that putting it that way is almost incorrect. "What do I have to do?" 

"Mommy, you didn't do anything wrong," Except that she did, she did so much wrong and Eddie refuses to see that because she loves him, she really does, even if she doesn't always show it in the healthiest way, "I have to go, it's not far, only two hours away and-"

"Oh, Eddie-bear!!" She's crying impossibly harder, her knees wobbling, threatening to drag him to the ground. She pulls him into her chest so quickly and crushes him so strongly that the breath is nearly driven from his body and he feels his lungs begin to close up. "You know I don't like those friends of yours! You know they aren't healthy for you, they don't know how to take care of you, not like I do. Please, you can't go, you can't leave me or you'll get sick!" He is nineteen, and surely doesn't need his mother. He doesn't need the sugar pills she forced him to depend on and he doesn't need her sheltering him from every little tiny pleasure he finds in the small town of Derry, Maine, but he can't tell her that because he thinks he loves her too. 

"I'm sorry, mommy, I-" This time, rather than being cut off by Sonia, he is cut off by the honking of a horn outside his home, just on the other side of the door. The sound sends his mother into despair, and he has to pry himself away from her, from her clawing hands and her teary eyes and, in turn, his (ruined) childhood. "I'll call you, I promise."

"Please, Eddie-bear, please don't go! Please!" Anyone would think she would topple over with the way she was trembling, hysterical, but Eddie knows better. She isn't a fraction as weak as one might think, and anyone other than Eddie would be able to tell that she was on the brink of forcing him to stay home with her, locking him in his room if that's what she had to do. Eddie pulled his inhaler hastily from his pocket, taking a reassuring puff and grabbing for his suitcase, giving his mom as warm a smile as possible before leaving, hurrying through the front door and away from her as she tries to catch up to him, to grab him by the wrist and drag him back home. Eddie moves quickly towards Bill's car, glancing once over his shoulder to see that Sonia has finally fallen to her knees on the front porch, blubbering to herself in hopes that she will change his mind and ditch his future for her sake. Reminded of years and years under her roof, living by her rules, Eddie climbs into the backseat of the 1992 Dodge Caravan and doesn't look back as it pulls away, taking one last puff of his inhaler before jamming it back into his pocket. 

\------

Eddie startles awake, dragged from the depths of sleep by a sudden jolt- for a moment, everything is frightening, unfamiliar, but everything begins to seep back into his brain and he keeps himself calm. Bill is in the drivers seat, Stan just beside him, the world is sliding by at a steady pace. It's dark out, and his watch reads just about 9:00 pm in the dim light. He realizes with a sickening jolt that his seat belt isn't on, and he clicks that into place without second thought. The sound of shuffling draws the attention of his two friends up front, who finally have the guts to break the fragile silence that had been held when Eddie had first arrived. The air around them all was tentative, nervous, stricken with all sorts of different feelings.

"Your mother didn't take it well?" Stan's steady gaze was visible in the rear-view mirror, and it had some sort of a calming effect, as it always seemed to. Though his question was simple, void of anything teasing or mocking, Eddie felt the urge to grow defensive. The way Stanley spoke made it seem like he and Bill had expected it not to go well- to anyone other than Eddie that wouldn't have come as a surprise. Telling his mother had been a daunting thing, and Eddie had put it off until earlier that night when he was already about to leave. He knew that if he told her any sooner she would make a few calls and cancel his plans- she had a way of scaring anyone into doing her bidding, and Eddie's soon-to-be professors and landlords down in Portland wouldn't be any exception- she'd have his future crushed in less than an hour. Biting his tongue, Eddie responded calm. 

"No, of course she didn't. I should have told her sooner. Maybe she would have reacted better. She thinks I hate her." As Eddie woke, so did his brain, and now it was beginning to settle back into it's usual racing. His mind never slowed, whether he was with or without his beloved mother. He felt terrible for the way everything had been handled, and the guilt in his chest was unbearable. 

"Of course you d-duh-don't hate her, Eddie," Bill replied without shifting his gaze from the road ahead of him, illuminated by the van's high-beams. There wasn't another car in sight. "She's just gonna muh-miss you is all," Despite his passive words, Bill and Stan shared a glance that told Eddie otherwise. He could basically hear their thoughts- the slew of words all most likely following the lines of 'she's overreacting' or 'she's downright batshit' or something equally negative. Once more Eddie found himself biting his tongue. 

"When are we there? I have to unpack my suitcase before I go to sleep- I know we have all weekend but there's so much to do and I don't know if we'll have enough time to do it." Eddie's paranoia finally kicked in, littering his brain with all sorts of ideas that intermingled with everything else going on behind his eyelids. The most of them centered around not getting settled in before his classes started on Monday, and then there were the smaller, underlying fears about murderers breaking into their new apartment and tornadoes and heart attacks even though he was still so young. Stan was the one holding the map, reassuring Eddie that it wouldn't be any longer than another half an hour. The ocean sprawled out to their left, a vast platform of deep, dark black reflecting the moon on it's rippling waves. The lights belonging to Portland were visible up ahead, a distant fleck on the horizon. 

"I can't w-wait to see everything," Bill was smiling, a small, serene expression he didn't often wear- most times, Bill's face read 'determination' and 'leadership', a friendly confidence radiating from him in waves. This was a soothing change of pace. "I've never been to P-Portland before."

"It's pretty. Different from Derry, but not different in a bad way." Stan folded up the road map, setting it down on the dashboard, then leaned back into his seat, "It's not as quiet, either- it's even bigger than Bangor." For the first time Eddie felt a pang of fear. Sure, he'd been frightened before- moving away from the only town he's ever known is always frightening- but this is the first time he's been scared of Portland itself. He'd hardly ever left Derry. He would travel to Bangor once a year to visit his grandmother, but that was just about it. Travelling had always been too dangerous. 

"Where are we going to eat? There's no Jade of the Orient. We need to buy furniture, too- and I need to find a new pharmacist, and we might need better locks for our door. Can we change the locks?" Eddie spoke a mile a minute, leaning forwards to poke his head between the two front seats, "What's the security like in the building? Are there people like Criss or Huggins?" Bill and Stan sucked in a silent breath in unison, letting it out in a huff as Eddie rambled on. So many worries, so many fears. Bill and Stan knew that Eddie would tire himself out eventually- for now, they sat missing the time when he had been asleep.

\-----

"Oh, dear Bevvie, I just couldn't help fall for you!" 

"Beep beep, Richie. Get on your feet already, we have work to do!" Despite her words, Beverly is grinning down at the Southern Belle otherwise known as Richie Tozier, who has gone tumbling to the floor. He's smiling too, as bright and energetic as ever despite it being just past 9:00 pm on a Friday. Seemingly reluctant, Bev juts out a hand, and Richie takes it with a flattered gasp, fanning himself with his hand as he climbs back to his feet. 

"My oh my, aren't you a gentle-lady?" Richie flutters his lashes, his clasped hands rested against his cheek as he leans in close with glowing eyes, "If it weren't for your bravery I just may have been trampled by sir Haystack," right as his nickname is spoken, Ben steps from the backroom with a tray of fresh pastries in his hands. He rolls his eyes, pushing past Richie towards the cafe's front display. 

"Don't you have coffees to make, Trashmouth?" His tone is light and playful and the mischievous glint in his eye almost matches that belonging to Richie, who was now leaned nonchalantly on the counter meant for delivering finished drinks instead of the one nearest the register, where three people were waiting impatiently in line. As always, Beverly is the one who has to pick up Richie's slack, though she isn't exactly reluctant. The three of them have fun, and Richie really does work hard more often than not. Today is just 'not'. 

"Sorry about him, he can be a little insufferable." Beverly approaches the dark wooden counter top, not even glancing over at her friend while she teases him, "What can I get for you?" Just as she finishes queuing up the newest order, Ben finishes with his work unloading the new pastries and turns to help Richie with the coffee machines. Battling down the urge to get distracted and steal one of the fresh croissants, Richie actually does make himself useful by whipping up the dark chocolate mocha most recently requested. The work is pure muscle memory, pressing buttons, pulling levers, moving cups and making sure everything was working just fine. As he sped from one place to the next with quick hands and practiced ease, he struck up another conversation with his buddy, Ben.

"Any plans for the weekend, Benny?" Richie pushed his glasses up further as he shot a quick glance over his shoulder, then turned back to survey the steady rise of the foam, "I was thinkin' of throwing some sort of back to school jamboree, if you will- I'll need that grown-up face of yours to buy me some booze." Richie plucked the drink from it's place and spun to the counter behind him, setting the cup back down and reaching for the chocolate shavings.

"I'm not illegally buying you alcohol, Richie. That's not a great idea." Just as the words left Ben's mouth Richie ditched the coffee, instead opting to turn to Ben and let out a groan, nearly collapsing into him as dramatic as humanly possible. 

"Come ooonnnnnn Ben! Don't ruin the party, please? You're the only one who looks like you're over 21!" Beverly, done queuing orders, pushed past Richie with an amused huff to resume making the dark chocolate mocha, "I'll give you the money in advance and I'll even pay you extra, whaddaya say, Haystack? Do it for your ole' pal Rich!" Ben stared right at Richie for one moment, and then two, taking in his round, pleading brown eyes and that too-wide, hopeful smile and finally cracking. With a heavy sigh, Ben's shoulders sank, and Richie already knew he had won. "Yes!" He cheers, and throws himself forwards to wrap his arms around Ben, "Thank you! You won't regret it!"

"Yeah, I'd better not," Ben was fighting off the urge to smile, watching Richie, endlessly amused, as he danced around behind the counter, "Get on those coffees, Rich." All at once, Richie came to a halt, spun on his heel, and pressed his hand to his forehead in a salute. 

"Righty'o, foine chap! I'll get right to it, my good man!" With those parting words from Toodles the English Butler Richie sped back to work. Coffee's were made in near silence, the only sound coming from the light chatter of customers, Bev at the register, and the bopping tune of 'Dancing Queen', one of Richie's current favourite songs. The mood was pleasant, fun, and time slid by nice and easy for a while until the bell by the door let off it's cheery jingle and Richie craned his neck over his shoulder to see which of his well-known customers sauntered through the door. Richie prided himself on the fact that he always remembered a face- it surprised his buddies that he was so damn good at keeping names next to faces, never forgetting a single person he served- that's why he was so pleasantly surprised when a whole three new people came in through the door. He let out a little gasp, pushing right up towards the front counter and bumping Bev away with his hip, giving her an apologetic little wink. She just rolled her eyes, that lovely Beverly smile plastered over her face, and took a few steps away to tidy up the natural mess that had settled over the space behind the counter. 

"Well, top o' the evenin' to ye!" Richie cut off his accent there, trying to seem as normal as possible as not to ruin his first impression, "I don't recognize you- what brings you here?" The man at the counter nearest Richie had red hair, his green eyes underline by dark, tired circles despite his smile. To his left was a man who was a good few inches taller, his curly hair surprisingly well-kept; Richie found himself wondering how he dealt with it, since his own curly hair was impossible most mornings. The last newcomer was a tiny little guy who looked way too proper to be at this little place so late in the night. Richie detected annoyance in his eyes already- specifically, the type of annoyance someone would present when faced with one of Richie's many Voices. 

"We're here fuh-for school." The redhead stuttered out, his cheeks a little rosy since he fumbled over his words, "The University of Southern Muh-Muh-" He bit his tongue for a moment, sucking in a quick breath before finally forcing the word "Maine" out through gritted teeth. He looked almost apologetic, and Richie waved a hand dismissively. 

"Well, glad to see ya! I'm always looking out for new faces," Richie glanced at each of them in turn, and then asked, "What can I get you three tonight?" 

"I'll take a cinnamon cappuccino," The one with the stutter selects, pulling out his wallet and passing a glance to the boy on either side of him, a silent prompting for them to order whatever they want. The one with the curly hair, the tallest one, tore his gaze from the menu hanging high above their heads.

"I'll just have a black coffee, please." Richie nodded and tapped a few keys, looking towards the last of the three, who was grimacing at the sight of the menu or maybe the order from the tall one, who knows. At lest he let out a huff and shrugged his shoulders. 

"I just want a bottle of water or something," He shrugged, and the redhead turned to him with a slight tilt to his head. 

"You sh-sure, Eddie? Nothing else catching your eye?" Eddie shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Nothing really, Bill. I don't know what's good here. I don't have coffee lots. Caffeine is bad for you. Stunts your growth." Oh, the restraint Richie had to exercise not to make a short joke, something akin to 'you drink lots of coffee then?' or 'too late for that!'. He surprised himself with his own self-control, and held his grin without snickering.

"How 'bout I make a recommendation? Something not too caffeinated?" He didn't like to brag, but Richie knew his way around the cafe and could make some killer signature drinks for a select few. Bill and Eddie share a look, Bill shrugging his shoulders in a 'what's the harm?' gesture that Eddie mirrors a few moments later. Richie takes that as a yes, and doesn't add the expense of the drink to the tab. He can pay for that one if his manager even notices anything wrong. "Alrighty then," Richie snaps his fingers over his shoulder, signalling to Ben and Beverly that they should get to work when, in all honesty, they're already almost done the two first-ordered drinks, "That'll be 7.34, please and thank you," The change is produced and slid across the counter. "Can I get a name on you?" Richie glances at the tallest of the three, "I caught Bill and Eds but still don't know what you go by, kind sir." 

"Oh-" The tall one fidgets, his smile momentarily faltering, nervous, and then he says, "Stanley- or just Stan, actually." And, Richie sends them off to wait with a finger gun and a click of his tongue. As soon as the three were out of earshot, Bev sidled up to Richie, placing a lid on the top of the black coffee meant for Stanley or Just Stan Actually with a smirk that can't mean anything innocent. 

"So," she hums, pulling Richie's pen from the hip pocket of his apron to scribble down 'Stan' on the cardboard sleeve, "Think he's cute?" Richie quirks a brow, pushing up his glasses with his middle finger and starting with his signature drink of choice, some sort of peppermint galão, a Portuguese drink with his own little spin.

"What do you mean?" He says as Bev trails after him, setting the finished drink down on the takeout counter to be joined by Ben's momentarily and then Richie's soon after. Beverly rolls her eyes, leaning against the counter beside him and studying his face as he got to work. 

"You're making this brand new guy a signature drink. You never do that for people you don't know." Richie does nothing more than shrug his shoulders as espresso trickled into the paper cup. 

"He's a newbie who doesn't have a signature coffee, it was just a nice thing to do." Richie senses himself growing just a teeny tiny itty bitty little bit defensive and saves the situation with a perfectly timed joke, "Don't you worry, dear Bevvie, I'd never break up with you." All he had to do was shoot her a wink and she was gone with a roll of her eyes and a light punch to the shoulder. Alongside the espresso came foamed milk, a shot of peppermint syrup, and a dusting of the natural stuff crushed into little bits. He unwrapped and stuck a year-old candy cane onto the side of the cup, and then realized he needed to put on a lid, abandoning his attempts at a pretty presentation and opting to dump the candy cane right into the drink itself. He tracked down Beverly and stole back his pen, thinking to himself for a moment before scribbling down 'Eds' and planting the cup beside the other two. 

"Thanks," Stan smiled a little more natural as he picked up his drink, grabbing Bill's as well and passing it to the other as Eddie picked up his own. They had just turned to leave, having gotten halfway to the front door when Richie remembered,

"Oh!" He called, and leaped right over the counter (yes, his foot got caught on the edge and he went stumbling on the other side) to catch them before they could make it for the door, "As a fellow soon-to-be student at the University, I would like to cordially invite you to my back to school jamboree that's happening tomorrow. We'll have alcohol and music, so it'll basically be totally awesome. If you're interested I can throw one of you my number and text you the information?" He was entirely nonchalant, cool as a cucumber, and really hoping that these three would say yes. Richie was never opposed to making a few new friends. Bill shrugged, nodding his head, and pulling his cell from his pocket, extending it in Richie's direction. The Trashmouth made quick work of tapping in his details, passing the Nokia right back seconds later and firing off yet another set of finger guns, backpedaling towards the counter and leaping back over it with a touch more grace. "See you there tomorrow! Shoot me a text and I'll tell you everything you need to know!" 

"Looks like you're having fun," Ben jammed his elbow into Richie's ribs, and Richie did the same right back without missing a beat. The door opened and shut with a jingle, signalling the departure of the three, and both Beverly and Ben broke out into laughter.


	2. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie isn't too fond of the party idea- Richie, on the other hand, couldn't possibly be more excited.

"Bill, why? Why would you say yes to that party? We don't know him! What if he's some serial killer? What if he tries to get us to do drugs? What if he kills us or lives in a dumpster or something?" Eddie is erratic, his drink still in his hand. They were hardly off the block of the little cafe known as Portland Authentic. Eddie hadn't been too fond of the guy behind the counter, mostly because he had written 'Eds' on his coffee cup. "I mean- we only just got to Portland and you're already going to get us killed or something!"

"Eddie, it'll be fine," Stan is the one to cut in with reassurance, taking a sip from his own cup and somehow not flinching at the taste of the straight caffeine, "Yeah, he was a little energetic but he didn't seem malicious. I think it'll be a good opportunity to get to know some new people." Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but Bill beat him to it, and no one had the disrespect to talk over Bill. That was just... off limits, so Eddie shut his mouth again and tried not to grimace.

"Buh-buh-besides," He started, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other soaking up the warmth of his cinnamon cappuccino, "It'll be guh-good to get out and see what kind of people Portland has to offer." With that, the discussion was closed, and Eddie let it drop with just a sigh, trying to shake away the lingering annoyance clinging to his mind. There were too many good things about Portland to worry about the bad things- in just a few days he would be working towards his dream as a doctor- he had always wanted to be a doctor. When he was younger, he had wanted his career to be within the health arena for the sake of reassuring his mother that he could take care of himself without being stuck behind a desk- now, though, he wanted to become a doctor to prove his mother wrong, to learn all sorts of things that would help him confirm that he wasn't sick, and had never been sick like Sonia Kaspbrak had said he was. 

The rest of the walk back home was near silent, consisting of craned necks and obvious gawking- Portland really was gorgeous, and so different from Derry. Rather than the tiny, modest homes Eddie and his friends grew up knowing, almost everything in the downtown area was some form of 19th century architecture or something alike- each building consisted of warm tones, arched windows, grand streetlamps with pots of colourful flowers. Eddie can't even imagine what it must look like in the daylight. 

"Oh, here's my work," Stan said, seeming not to have realized what street they were wandering down. The three halted outside of a small flower shop, Roses on Deane, and approached the large, open windows in the front. The lights were out inside, obviously, but it was still possible to make out the shapes of many many bouquets. Stan had managed to score a job a few months back thanks to a cousin who had a friend who owned the place, and though Stan never considered himself a huge fan of flowers, Eddie could see how the place would fit him. At least one of them had a job- Eddie shudders to think that there is yet another huge thing he needs to get done this weekend. If he doesn't have a job by next weekend then he won't be able to pitch in to help with rent. Bill, who had been working at the library back home, had been transferred here too, so he was also getting payed bi-weekly. Eddie was alone in his unemployment, but that was okay. He was smart, and efficient, and he would get a job sooner or later somewhere. 

"When do you start?" He asked, finally bringing his rapidly-cooling drink up to his lips. He braced himself for a horrid taste, taking a slow, tentative sip, and almost letting a sound of approval slip past his lips. It didn't... It didn't taste horrible. Peppermint was okay, in his opinion, and it balanced out the bitterness of the coffee just right. 

"Tuesday at 5:00," Stan took one last glance through the window, smiling serenely and turning to continue on to their new apartment. Again, the three fell into silence, calm and comfortable. They walked another three blocks before spotting their building, and Bill was the one to pull out an access card to scan at the door. Their bags were already up in their house, and Eddie had even made a few comments on how he appreciated the security. Electronic locks were unheard of to Eddie until today, and he was pleased. Now, he was too exhausted to be pleased. His coffee had him buzzing, and he would force himself to stay awake until his suitcase was unpacked, but he couldn't wait to curl up in his new bed, away from his hometown for the first time in years. 

"We'll have to go grocery shopping tuh-tomorrow," Bill hummed half to himself as he stepped into the elevator, clicking the button labeled with a '2'. "We won't have any fuh-fuh-food. I'll buy us breakfast in the morning." 

"Thanks, Bill," Stan smiles, "We can make a meal plan, budget things out. Just to make sure we can always make rent." Eddie nodded along, and took another long sip of the minty-bitter drink in his hand. 

"We should go look at the campus. I want to find out where my classes are, maybe." Eddie found himself rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the little glowing number above the elevator buttons blink from 'G' to '1' to, at last, '2'. With a ding, the doors slid open, and a dim hallway was presented to them, the lights on low now that it was just about 10:00 pm. 

"I want to go see Back Cove Park at some point. The bird watching is great. They have egrets sometimes, and other birds I haven't seen yet. I always go there when I visit- it's like tradition." Stifling a yawn (not because of the bird talk- Eddie was just tired) Eddie nodded his head. In all honesty, a nature walk sounded nice. Already, he was missing the Barrens, the poor dam he remembers building with Bill ages and ages ago. "It's right on the water, so we can go fishing too, or swimming if you guys wanted to. It isn't always as warm as it is tonight, and it's only getting colder, but..." Stan shrugs. They arrive at their apartment door, number 29, and yet again Bill is the one to pull out his key and stick it into the lock, giving it a twist and pushing the door wide open. Eddie steps inside first, flicking on the light and taking in the sight of his new apartment.

The door opened up into a short hallway. To his direct right there was a door leading to a small closet. A little ways ahead, the hallway broke both left and right, the left way leading to the kitchen and living room along with the doors to the balcony and Bill's room- in turn, the right way led to the main bathroom and the two other bedrooms reserved for Eddie and Stan. 

"Wuh-well, I guess this is goodnight," Bill says, shutting the door behind him and kicking off his shoes, "We all have a l-lot of unpacking to do, I'm sh-sure." Both Stan and Eddie nod in near-perfect unison. 

"Goodnight, you guys. Enjoy your first sleep in our new house." Stan speaks with a grin, staring at both Eddie and Bill with that intense hazel gaze that seems to communicate the intense reality of the situation. The three men had made it out of their childhood town, and now they were living on their own. They really weren't children anymore. Along with that look in Stan's eyes came a heavy feeling of bittersweetness- Derry was gone, now, and with it, Eddie's childhood. He smiled at his two best friends, and then turned down the hallway to greet his room.

\-----

"Alright, that's everything," Ben says as the doors to the cafe swing shut and he locks them tight. 

"Another job well done, boy! Another fantastic job, I'd say!" Richie throws one arm over Ben's shoulders, and then the other pulls in Bev by the arm. Crushing his two buddies in a double side-hug, he speaks in his almost-perfected MovieTone Newsreel Announcer Voice, disturbing the silence of the dark Portland streets, "You're both quite the caffeine-mixin' maestros, eh? You'll do great things for this world, great things!" 

"Beep-beep, Richie. I'm exhausted." Beverly was smiling, sure, but Richie really could tell that she was done with today. He let both she and Ben go, toning down his behavior and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to each along with his lighter. Ben declined as politely as possible, so Richie and Bev were left to smoke without him. 

"You'll get those beers for me, won't you?" Richie asks, taking a drag and relishing in the way the smoke filled his lungs. He should probably quit sooner or later, huh? Maybe one day. "I've got the cash back home. I'll give it to you and you can just go buy whatever you want. Party booze of your choice." Ben let out a chuckle, waving a hand in front of his face to show his dislike of the cigarette smoke. Richie mumbled something akin to an apology. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get it. And don't worry about paying me back, I'll be drinking it too." Richie beamed. With a light punch to the shoulder, he turned his attention to Bev, ready to play a little bit of Cupid.

"You're coming too, right Bevvie?" He asked the question as if it were nothing, oh-so subtly bumping Ben with his elbow. Beverly shrugged. 

"Probably. It's basically a sin to miss out on an infamous Tozier party, isn't it?" She placed the cigarette against her lips, and puffed out smoke right after. "What else is happening other than drinking too much and getting the Police called on us for being too loud?" Richie couldn't help but snicker at that. The Police had, on numerous occasions, been called on him for playing his music at ungodly levels, but, I mean, come on, he has fantastic taste and the world needs to know it. 

"Who knows, maybe some pin the tail on the donkey? Musical chairs?" Ben and Beverly both let out a snort, the redhead spinning to face Richie with suddenly bright eyes. 

"Please," She said with a wide, bright smile, "I would pay to see you get annihilated by Ben." 

"Excuse me, Miss Marsh, but I pride myself on being a musical chairs master! I was unbeatable in my fifth grade class!" Placing a feign-offended hand on his chest, Richie guffawed, upturning his nose in mock disgust. Beverly was laughing now, a light and cheery sound almost like the jingling of the bell in the cafe but a little less annoying. The bell also didn't make Ben's face light up, and he didn't want to hear the bell forever. 

"Probably because you were built like string cheese, Richie- No offense, of course." Beverly only laughed harder at Ben's quip, and yeah, Richie admits that it was pretty good and about 99% true. 

"The best damn string cheese you've ever tasted, Haystack," Richie shot his friend a wink, lifting one foot and crushing his cigarette out on the sole of his shoe, "Now, my dearests, I must depart- nice work we did today, you two!" Richie flicked the butt away, speaking over his shoulder as he set off in the direction of home. "I'll see you both at my party!" He spins on his heel, waving Ben and Bev off with one last peace sign before continuing on into the darkness. Richie hummed a little tune to himself, a pep in his step despite his light tiredness. Oh, how he wanted to get home- the idea of cracking open a soda and sitting in front of the TV sounded pretty damn great right about now. For a Friday night the world was surprisingly quiet- the same wouldn't be said about tomorrow. Toziers were born to party. Richie's dad had thrown some ragers in his teenage days, and so had his mom- now, it was his turn to take on the family name and keep that legacy going. Other than beer he probably needed some snacks, chips or cookies or as Ben had so wonderfully suggested string cheese because who doesn't like string cheese? He made a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow and hoped that he didn't forget it.

Richie's apartment came into view, a pretty little six floor building made of a nice red brick. He lived on the top floor and his neighbors probably hated him for reasons that should be obvious enough but he'd yet to be kicked out which meant he still had some boundaries to push. He'd been brewing up a new party playlist for a few days now and he made yet another mental note to throw on 'Dancing Queen'. Richie's humming transformed into whistling as he pulled open the door to his building, waving to the late-night receptionist, a kind young lady who hated his guts and probably thought he was flirting with her all the time when he really didn't even swing that way. 

"Good evening, m'lady," He said with a goofy, lopsided grin, earning a scowl over the top of a home-deco magazine, "Quite the swell night it is," He didn't linger long, pressing the call button for the elevator and stepping inside. He tapped '6' and waited, his spirits high, excited for tomorrow. He liked getting ready for parties. He liked the decorations he always put up, the arrangement of the snacks that he put too much thought into, and the anticipation of being the host because that always meant most eyes were on him. Up up up the elevator went, and let out a happy little ding as the doors peeled back open and he went right to his door. Richie pulled out his keys, jamming them into the doorknob and pushing the door open to reveal the space inside. "Honey, I'm home!" He called out the words, arms out at his side in a motion of grandeur. Of course, there was no response, and he kicked the door shut with his heel. Richie tossed his keys onto the little table by the door, toeing off each shoe in turn and leaving them discarded in the middle of the entryway. 

"Hey there, babes," His first stop was the fish tank on the kitchen counter, packed with swimming little neon tetra and angelfish and Richie's prized bala shark he named Bella- creative, he knows- to sprinkle in some food. The little jar was just beside the aquarium, and he popped off the lid, shaking it above the open water and watching his little pals swim forth for their dinner. With his lasting grin, Richie let out a chuckle, his heart swelling at the sight of his aquatic children as he set the food back on the counter and took a step away. His own stomach let out a growl, and he realized for the first time that he hasn't eaten since after his last class, way back at 3:00. Popping open his fridge, Richie scanned it's contents- yep, he really needed to go get food tomorrow. There was next to nothing. He settled half-reluctantly on some month-old instant ramen and cooked it up with ease. Richie hadn't had instant ramen in ages, but there was a good amount of nostalgia contained within the simple dish. It had carried him through high school one plastic cup at a time, helping him fight through long nights of studying and even a nasty breakup. 

The elevator let out three beeps, calling out 'Hey! I'm done, come eat me!' with each and every one. Richie ate it as he hastily cleaned up the kitchen, throwing dishes in the dishwasher and even taking the time to watch a casserole dish by hand, putting on his playlist but keeping the speakers on a low volume for the sake of his neighbors. No more than 15 minutes passed and then he was done, finally allowing himself to do what he's been anticipating all day. With a Pepsi in hand, he made the couch his home, curling up in a knitted blanket and tuning into 'Friends'. As he watched, one eye always on the TV, he snatched the black nail polish from it's spot on the coffee table and began to paint it over the chipped remnants of what was already there. At some point, after they'd dried, he ended up falling asleep on the sofa.


	3. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie needs some snacks for party and Eddie needs to fill his new fridge. The two just so happen to live near the same grocery store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Ooooooh shaking things up a little and starting this off with Richie's POV first rather than Eddie's :)

Richie's phone buzzed. Instantaneously, his phone was out of his pocket and into his hand, and he opted to check the message rather than watch the sidewalk ahead of him. A grin split his face and he caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth, biting down on that instead of letting out an excited little squeal. The text was from an unknown number and read,

Hi, it's Bill from the coffee shop. Can I get the party information?

With another three guests set to come, Richie was all the more anticipated. That brought the list of guests up to an even 40. With flying thumbs, Richie tapped back his answer consisting of his address and the time the party was starting before saving the number into his phone underneath the name 'Stuttering Bill'. The phone was slid back into the pocket of his jeans. A stiff breeze whisked past him, and he almost felt cold enough to shiver, pulling the edges of his arcade-floor print button-up closer together in an attempt to shield himself. The sky overhead was a pale grey, promising rain soon to come and snow, too, in no time at all. It was nearly November, and while the snow usually fell heaviest from December to January it was no rare occurrence for it to make an early appearance just for a week or two. Again, Richie's phone buzzed. 

Thanks. Any snacks we should bring?

For a moment, Richie pondered. He had a perfect reply locked and loaded but didn't know if it was too soon for this kind of joke. What he wanted to say was 'only yourself, hot stuff' and maybe he'd throw in a 'and the short one too' but he quickly decided he didn't want these three random people to hate his guts too quickly on the off chance that they weren't okay with guy-on-guy flirtation like that. Instead of one of the many cruddy pickup lines he has ready to go he says, 

No pressure, unless you want something for yourself.

As Richie puts his phone away yet again he found himself right where he wanted to be, the lovely little family-run grocery store known as 'Hanlon Grocer'. The people inside actually tolerated him and took the time out of their days to run 50 bags of Doritos through the checkout, when a few other places he'd been to for party snack stocking had actually turned him away- it also helped that the owners son was one of his best pals. He stepped through the door, running a quick hand through his slightly wind-swept hair. Almost immediately he was greeted by the young lady currently working the register, the younger cousin of Mike Hanlon herself, Jennifer Hanlon. 

"Morning, Richie," She greeted with a casual wave, attention temporarily stolen from the book she had open in front of her, "Mike tells me you're having a party tonight. I'm guessing that's why you're here?" 

"You're a cunning one, Jenny!" Richie leaned against the counter, his radiant smile making him look something close to insane, "I have about an entire aisle of soda to buy from you!" Jenny smiled back at him, plucking her bookmark from the counter and slipping it into place. She closed the book, sliding it aside, and Richie caught sight of the cover- The Prestige, by Christopher Priest. It was a new one that Mike had been reading a few weeks back. 

"Well, Mike's somewhere here. If you flash him that million-dollar smile maybe you can get him to help you carry some things." Richie clapped his hands together, and took a step back. 

"Thanks a billion, Jen- I'll see you shortly, I'm sure. Get those scanning hands ready, I'll have quite the haul," Richie took a few more steps backwards, still talking to Jenny as he made his way further into the store, "I really hope you don't mind me always making such a big fuss!"

"Pshh," Jenny waves a hand, "You're our top customer, Rich, I could never mind!" And, with that, Richie spun on his heel, leaving Jenny to return to her fine literature so he could go pack his arms full of snacks, too many to carry for one man alone. Lucky for him, just as he was about to disappear into an aisle in search of his friend, Mike stepped out into view from nearer the produce section, catching Richie's eye. 

"Sure an begorahh, me ole' laddie Mr. O'Hanlon, sor!" Richie danced along the linoleum tiles, trying both to stomp and float at the same time, graceful and intimidating as his Irish Cop, "Doh ye mind lendin' me a hand 'er two?" At once Mike set aside the crate of cans he'd been carrying, meaning to restock some shelves- in Mike's mind, that could wait. 

"Morning, Richie," He greeted as he stepped away from the crate, instead beckoning with his head for Richie to follow him towards the primary snacks isle, "Putting off shopping til last minute again? Do I have to tell you it might be a little more wise to get this done a week or so in advance in case you forget anything?" Mike glances over at Richie, his eyes alight with a teasing mischief as they turn left into isle 6. 

"No, my good sir, you do not." Richie clasps his hands together as he speaks, leaning over just slightly to rake his gaze across the bottom shelf. One bag after the other, he scanned in search of just what he wanted and- aha, there it was, the barbecue chips, and, more precisely, the Lays barbecue chips. 

"I called in for an extra order of those just for you," Mike gave Richie's shoulder a gentle push, which Richie returned with one of his own. 

"Oh, you!" He was now the Southern Belle, a hand spread on his chest as he batted his eyelashes, "You really shouldn't have, Sir Michael, you are just too kind!" With that, the charade was abandoned and Richie dropped to his knees, none-too-graciously jamming his absurdly long arms onto either side of the rows of barbecue chips. As if they were his bride, he scooped them up, holding them with as much care as he would if this metaphor were true. 

"Do you... want a basket?" Mike was snickering to himself, one hand lifted to hover over his toothy grin, the other planted on his hip. "Let me get you a basket." Richie was left alone for a second as Mike hurried away. Right, a basket- that... that could have been smart, Richie thinks to himself, but he isn't always too smart. Case in point, instead of recognizing that his arms were way too full and he couldn't carry anything else, he got distracted by the rows of chocolate bars and hobbled his way over there. A box of Atomic Fireballs sat in the midst of the candy, basically begging him to buy them. Against his better judgement, he tried to free up one hand enough to snag the candy.

\-----

Eddie's gaze darted back and forth between two different cereal boxes- the classic Corn Flakes or the new Special K. One had less sugar, the other less calories, and he would be getting about the same amount of cereal for the same price but- All of a sudden, Eddie's careful thinking is interrupted by a crash, and he leaps nearly three feet in the air at the sound of it, letting out a horribly embarrassing sound like a quite shriek. Both cereal boxes went to the ground and he suddenly didn't care about them any more. A sound like that couldn't possibly mean anything good, could it? Someone might have been hurt and he has the equipment with him right now to help them on some minimal scale. Eddie hurried forwards, exiting his aisle and heading straight for the source of the noise in aisle six. As he sped around the corner, he came skidding to a halt for just a moment before pushing forwards once more and stopping at the side of someone covered in a mixture of chip bags, candies, and metal. 

"Shit, are you okay? Anything hurt? Here, let me help-" A little metal rack in the center of the aisle had been pulled over onto the poor guy trapped underneath, one rung jabbed against his ribs in a manner that couldn't possibly be comfortable. Eddie fastened his hands around the rack as best he could, pulling it off and away as quickly as possible. As soon as it was pushed aside his full attention went back to whoever had been trapped underneath, and a gust of familiarity punched him right in the stomach. The only one Eddie had ever seen wearing those wretched thick-framed glasses had been the coffee guy from the night before. Eddie brushed away the pang of annoyance in his gut and helped brush bags of barbecue chips aside to pull the barista into a sitting position. 

"Ah, thanks," The guy said with a chuckle, pushing his glasses up and reaching for one of the bags of chips. He frowned as he picked it up, suspecting it for damage and most likely discovering that at least half of it's contents were crushed, "My bad for the trouble, my long-ass limbs sometimes get the-" He paused, finally looking up at Eddie, and then his own eyes lit with recognition and he was grinning like a maniac. "Hey, I know you! New guy! Eds!" Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname, brushing right past him. 

"Are you okay? Hurt at all? Do I need to call a doctor? When did you last get a tetanus shot? Are you bleeding anywhere?" Eddie was already moving to unzip his trusty fanny pack, knowing he had butterfly tape, disinfectant, bandages and all things alike just inside. "How are you feeling? Dizzy at all? You might have hit your head or something and-"

"Hey, calm down there buddy, you'll give yourself an aneurysm if you don't stop and take a breath!" The barista was chuckling again, hands held out in front of him in some attempt to calm Eddie's already-racing thoughts. Worst case scenarios sprung up left and right, the current most prominent possibility being that this goof could get some sort of instantaneous infection that would transform him into a zombie, "I'm just fine, actually. I've taken quite a few tumbles in my day and this is nothin'. If anything, I'd be more concerned for the chips!" He went to climb to his feet, and Eddie was almost reluctant to allow that. Maybe he'd throw out his back or tear a muscle or fall again- he shoved the thoughts away and instead just stood as well. "Thanks, Eds," The guy said with a big glowing grin and a shrug of his shoulders, one hand rising to scratch at the back of his neck, "If I'd known you were here to save the day I'd have fallen sooner! My knight in shining armor!" 

"Don't-" Eddie began, biting his tongue and then finally snapping out, "Don't call me Eds! And for the love of God, don't go getting yourself hurt just for the hell of it. That's stupid. You could have broken something!" Crossing his arms over his chest, Eddie huffed out a breath, shaking his head out of disapproval. Eddie's damsel in distress opened his mouth to speak when a new voice sliced in and someone Eddie hadn't seen before hurried around the corner with concern etched into his every feature and a shopping basket slung over one arm.

"Richie, what- What happened? You okay?" He approached quickly, glancing briefly at Eddie before his full attention went to Mr. Damsel- or, otherwise, Richie. Richie shot two thumbs ups.

"I'm great, Mikey, my good pal Eddie came to help me up." 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mikey set down his basket and turned to Eddie instead, extending a hand and a friendly smile, "I'm Mike. I didn't mean to intrude if you two were talking, but Rich tends to get himself hurt more than the average human male. It's second nature now to fret over him." Richie let out a scoff, adopting a dramatic frown and upturning his nose. 

"It's really hard to control my noodle arms, thank you very much! And, come on, did you really expect me not to go for the Fireballs? The heart wants what it wants, doesn't it?" Eddie let Mike's hand go and, feeling a little bit awkward now to be talking to these near-strangers, said,

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I, uh... I guess I'll be seeing you again later tonight at the party," Eddie tried to smile, "Don't go knocking over any more display shelves." Eddie was just about to turn and hurry away, just about to get out of the social interaction when none other than Bill appeared down the hall, a grocery basket hanging off his arm, obviously curious and with Stan at his side. Bill spotted Richie, Richie spotted Bill, and then the latter was approaching with his Big Bill smile. 

"Oh, hey!" He greeted, nodding cheerfully in Mike's direction as well, "It's you again! I juh-just wanted to thank you fuh-for the invitation to your party." The best thing Eddie thinks Bill has ever done is draw the attention away from him. He has a tendency to do that- most eyes shift right for him when he enters the room, as if everyone sense that he is the leader. That's alright, in Eddie's opinion, because he could never be a leader and is much more content to be a follower hiding in the shadows. Now, both Richie, Mike and Bill are locked in conversation, much more friendly and natural than the one Eddie had been caught in moments earlier. Stan takes a few subtle steps towards his much shorter friend, leaning over a little to hiss out a whisper,

"They'll be talking for hours, I can already tell." Eddie found himself smiling and nodding right along. Stan was absolutely correct. The chemistry that was already brewing was that foretelling of three great friends. "Interested in coming with me to look at the bakery? I can smell it from here and I want to see what they have." Eddie only smiles wider. He nods his head without seconds thought, only trying for a second or two to catch Bill's gaze before just giving up and following Stan out of the hallway and towards the back of the building. Matching him step for step, the two picked up a much more comfortable, much more pleasant conversation that Eddie actually enjoyed having. "The curly haired one sure talks a lot. What are the chances that we're seeing him again today? How many grocery stores are there in Portland?" 

"Apparently just the one. Some higher power must hate me to make me run into him again." Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically, and Stan let out a snicker, gently bumping his elbow into Eddie's and quirking a brow. In return, Eddie's own brows bent down into a questioning furrow. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face or something?" One hand lifted to wipe at his cheek but it came back clean. Stan just shook his head, a small smile ghosting his lips as they arrived at the bakery. "Oh sweet, sesame bagels!" His attention redirected, Eddie dismissed the odd look and moved to stand right in front of the glass, hovering over it and scanning it's contents but never putting his hands on it. That was icky, in his opinion- Stan was at his side moments later, scanning over the iced sweets just next to the bagels that had caught Eddie's eye. 

"What do you want to bet Bill won't want us wasting our money on any of this?" Stan said with a grin, gaze still glued to a tantalizing slice of carrot cake. 

"My soul. How much extra cash do we have to waste?" No one needed to speak another word. The two made a silent agreement- buy whatever the hell you want and defend your purchase with your life. Neither Stan nor Eddie would let Bill scold them for this. They deserved some sort of 'welcome to Portland' treat. In the end, they were both walking away with quite the haul- Eddie had secured a bag of six of those sesame bagels, and Stan had bought the carrot cake along with a loaf of banana bread. Just as Stan passed over the cash needed to pay for the treats, Bill stepped into view, hurrying in their direction with his grocery basket filled with whatever other food the three needed to last them a week. 

"Wuh-what did you two get your hands on?" Bill doesn't waste a minute to start interrogating, though the smile on his face betrays his attempts at scolding the two. He doesn't even make them explain themselves, jumping to the next topic right after and beckoning with his head for the two to follow him towards the checkouts, "We should cuh-come here from now on. I like supporting luh-luh-local businesses. It's good for the economy or something, and Mike is n-nice." Eddie almost let out a groan- that was the last thing he wanted, because then he risked running into Richie again. It seemed he and Mike, one of the grocers, were good friends. Why else would he be worried for Richie's well being? Still, Eddie bit his tongue, instead answering with something less rude and more civil.

"We could, or we could go to a bigger store. They'd have more options- we'd probably get better deals, too." Clutching his bag of sesame bagels and hoping Bill would take the bait, he continued in his attempts to convince him, "Here, they've only got so many different things. If we went to the Superstore a ways away we could pick out healthier foods and stuff and probably save a ton of money." 

"Eh," Stan answered rather than Bill, holding a hand out in the redheads direction to silently offer a turn carrying the basket, "I like it here. It's quiet, and it's all family run. There'll be less processed items available. You hate processed foods, Eddie, you should love it here- it's all organic." For some odd reason Eddie felt like Stan was maybe... plotting something? The curly-haired boy seemed awfully suspicious. Usually, he just went along with whatever else was decided, and rarely bothered to help in decision making. He never minded what Bill or Eddie chose because, as far as he was concerned, they were both logical and made great decisions. Alarm bells rang in Eddie's head and curiosity began to bubble within him. What was Stanley getting at? 

"Luh-let's see how everything plays out. Maybe w-we'll end up going somewhere else next w-week, buh-but we don't ne-need to decide r-ruh-right now." The three arrived at the till. 

"Good morning," The lady behind it looked about their age, with bright eyes and glowing sepia skin, her hair frizzy and light, like a cloud around her head. Her name tag read 'Jennifer'. "Chilly day today, isn't it?" Jennifer got right to work, not even glancing down at her hands as she scanned one item and then the next in rapid succession with memorized ease. Bill and her picked up a natural conversation, his great people skills showing through now more than ever. Bill brought up Mike, and the three found out that he was Jennifer's cousin- they also discovered that hers and Mike's grandparents owned the store and kept it running smoothly. Before they knew it, everything was bagged and ready to go. Stan, Bill and Eddie distributed the bags between them, said their goodbyes to the kind girl behind the counter, and made for the doors. The chill that had been in the air when Eddie had first arrived had eased, just a little. The sun peaked out timidly from behind thickening swaths of darkened clouds, and the taste of rain hung heavy on the breeze. 

"We should get a cab. I swear to God, if it starts raining and I catch a cold I'm blaming it on you guys." Eddie grimaced as he looked up towards the sky, and the three set off back in the direction of home. 

"What are we doing for the rest of the day?" Stan asked, staring up and around at all of the buildings lining the street, taking in every little detail Portland had to offer. Bill was doing just the same as he answered,

"I have nuh-nothing planned. I might take a n-nap or suh-humthing like that before the party." Eddie let out something akin to a scoff, though it sounded more surprised than hostile or anything negative like that. 

"Don't you still have unpacking to do? You can't seriously be finished, can you?" Bill shrugged his shoulders, shuffling his grocery bags from one hand to the other. Eddie took that as a sign that Bill was, in fact, done with his unpacking. How, Eddie had no idea- shit, he's hardly finished half of his, and Stan couldn't possibly be done either with how much of a perfectionist he was. As if to prove Eddie wrong, Stan spoke next.

"I finished earlier this morning. You aren't done? How much do you have?" Eddie had brought his biggest suitcase from back home. After all, he had basically taken everything he owned with him; his entire closet, his whole medicine cabinet, more miscellaneous things like some toxin-free cleaning supplies- getting everything into a convenient spot (and needing to clean those convenient spots first) took time and effort and Eddie tended to get distracted. It made sense that he wasn't done yet, but he hadn't expected the other two to have finished so quickly. "That's alright, it's fine," Stan continued, cutting into Eddie's thoughts, "I can help you if you want me to?" Eddie was quick to deny that offer.

"Thanks, but I'm more than capable of putting my own shit away. You guys can do whatever- don't worry about me." Sooner or later, the three arrived back at home, and Bill offered to unload to groceries which left Eddie to get right to work. When they arrived back up in their apartment, Eddie dropped his grocery bags in the new, untouched kitchen and dismissed himself to head for his room. Straight down the hall from the kitchen sat Eddie's door, and behind that, his bedroom, perfectly neat and tidy. As he stepped inside, he took in the sight of it all again with a burst of pride- this was his room, and he finally had the privacy he had always craved. To the direct left of the door sat a small set of drawers with a sizable mirror mounted just above it. Facing those drawers was the king-sized bed fitted with sleek grey sheets and a whole seven pillows of different sizes. Underneath the bed was a rug, the floor a pale hardwood- two bedside tables sat on either side of the bed and a door to the closet was to his right. Finally, the piece de resistance were the large double-doors that led to his own private balcony- since Bill's room had an ensuite and Stan had a walk-in closet, he had scored the balcony and he was more than excited. 

At last, Eddie stepped into his room, pushing the door near-shut behind him. The white, cold light filtering in through the glass panes of the balcony doors washed everything around him in a pale luminescence. Any minute now, he was certain, rain would start to fall, and he was glad to have made it home before getting caught in it. Eddie made for his suitcase, which was set at the foot of his bed. It was huge, silver, heavy-duty and still half-full despite a whole hour of unpacking. Pushing it onto it's side, Eddie pulled on the zipper and flipped open the top, not wasting a minute as he began to pick out the pharmaceuticals tucked within. Despite escaping his mother, he hadn't escaped old habits- paranoia still gnawed at his insides whenever he thought of sickness, his own weakened immune system- he pushed the thoughts away and began to arrange his assortment of emergency medications on top of the drawers. As he did so, he stared at his reflection in the mirror- the fear of sickness was, at once, forgotten. Instead, he found himself soaking in the feeling of his newfound independence. Eddie had finally left the nest for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): I think I like this chapter. We see Mike for the first time, and I'm so excited for more of him. He's wonderful. We also get some more Eddie/Richie bonding, as well as Bill and, of course, Stan. I love Stan. He's so underrated and he's so fantastic. There will probably be quite a bit of him in this book because, I mean, come on he's Stanley fuckin Uris and he is my son. 
> 
> Tell me, what do you guys think of this so far? I had to do so much research and conceptualizing to learn how to write Richie's Voices. I spent at least an hour pulling and studying quotes from the book itself since I can't find any guides or anything like that on the internet. It was pretty hard- do you think I do the Voices justice? Please, please let me know, and if you don't think I write them correctly tell me what I can change! Thanks so so much for reading!
> 
> P.S. - I don't really reread my stuff so, uh, if you see any typos or anything like that please let me know.


	4. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The party definitely isn’t Eddie’s scene. Too many people and loud, booming noises get overwhelming all too quickly.

Eddie stood looking at himself in the mirror. The sky outside of his window was darkening, on the brink of sunset right near 6:30 pm. He was dressed in what he considered his 'party clothes', or at least the closest thing he could find- he wore a brown plaid button-up tee with a darker brown v-neck sweater, finally finished off with a pair of khaki pants. It was nothing special, really, but it was probably the most, as Bill had put it, 'chillax' thing he currently owned. Living with his mother, Eddie had grown used to wearing what she bought him and only what she bought him, which only consisted of simple tees, polo shirts and, of course, his occasional button-up. The sweater he currently wore had been a gift from Stan for his 18th birthday- the memory reminded him that his 19th birthday was right around the corner. 

"St-Stan? Eddie? Ruh-ready to go?" Bill's voice echoed through the house, snapping Eddie from the odd trance he'd fallen into, staring right into his own reflection. Right, of course- he had a party to go to.

"Coming!" He called, and was just about to turn and leave the room when his eye was caught by an object on the surface of his dresser- It was his inhaler. For a moment, Eddie stared, and felt as if it were calling to him. He hadn't used it for months until the fight with his mother, and already he had vowed not to use it again. He'd been trying to shake the habit of using it just as he had started faking swallowing his old placebos; sadly, however, the effects of his false-asthma still kicked in so hard he had to take a puff or two. Eddie's lungs felt tight with anxiety at the idea of this stupid party, and he only debated for one more moment before grabbing the inhaler and jamming it into his pocket, just in case. He was quick to join his two friends, and they both set off- umbrellas in tow- into the now-starting rain. 

***

It had been approximately 10 seconds and Eddie was fighting back over stimulation. Shit, he hasn't even knocked on the apartment door yet, and the booming, thumping music with it's impossibly heavy base was already putting him on edge. Stan was close to his side, Bill just a few paces ahead, and though he was more than grateful for their comforting, familiar presence he was terrified. Eddie didn't know these people. He was walking into a strangers home. He'd seen horror movies, he knows what happens in big, crowded parties with alcohol and hormonal teens and what happens is they get slashed by a serial killer. Maybe it was just paranoia, but Eddie was already wishing he could turn tail and flee. Bill, Stan and he stopped in front of the door belonging to the source of the noise, and that anxiety in the pit of his stomach tripled, if that was even something that could happen at this point. Eddie tried his very best to suck in deep breaths, but they came in with a slight whistle and made his chest ache. 

"Ready?" Stan said, quickly straightening out the collar of his navy dress shirt, passing a quick glance and a warm smile in Eddie's direction, "It'll be okay, Eddie, you can stick by our side the whole time." Eddie nodded his head, clasping his hands nervously together in front of him. Bill gripped the door handle, giving it a twist and pushing it wide open. Ah, yes- Eddie hates this, indeed. 

"Oh, no..." The words were spoken mostly to himself, drowned out almost entirely by the speakers throbbing throughout the house. It was dark, the only illumination coming from colorful fairy lights strung high above everyone's heads. The place was packed with moving, dancing bodies, red solo cups held in the hands of nearly everyone. Eddie could see glow sticks wrapped around wrists and hanging from necks, and even spotted a woman in a too-short dress clashing lips with a man in a Letterman jacket. Before he really could give in a flee, a hand was set gently on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see Bill grinning down at him, his eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and concern. The question didn't need to be spoken for Eddie to know that Bill was nervous for him. With a simple shake of his head, Eddie dismissed his worries and motioned with one hand for the redhead to lead the way. 

"Hey!" Before any of the three could move an all-too familiar voice rang through, slicing through the sounds of the party and calling all attention in that direction, "My dear friends, you made it!" Richie pushed past a few people on his route to the trio, his cheek-splitting grin even wider than usual and clearly under the slight influence of alcohol. 

"Hey, Ruh-Richie! Thanks for inviting u-us, this is... a bigger puh-party then I've ever been to in my li-life!" Bill extended a hand for Richie to shake, and the host was quick to accept it with the one hand that wasn't harboring another one of those red cups. Eddie caught a glimpse of a dark liquid, along with the smell of booze and citrus. 

"It sure is something," Stan agreed with a nod, and Richie gleamed with pride. 

"Can I get you three some drinks? They may or may not be spiked. We also have, uh... grass, if that's any of your styles." Before Richie could be judged (Eddie was just about to scold him for drug use) he tacked on, "It's not my type of thing but I wouldn't mind if it was yours!" He started to laugh along with Bill, even Stan letting out a small chuckle, but Eddie was still hugely unimpressed with this all. Much to his demise, Stan the Polite had to go and agree to the drinks. Before he could protest, Richie was leading the way directly into the throng of people towards a kitchen. It was miserable. Dancers blocked the way to their desired destination, meaning the group had to push right through them. Not only was it impolite, but these teenagers were also drunk and disgusting. Eddie was trying so hard not to be so uptight, at least for one night, but he just couldn't do it. He pulled his arms into himself and braved the traverse, wincing as he began to attempt to weave through. He was pushed from all sides, sworn at by one rowdy man who he had accidentally bumped into and winked at by a drunken girl dancing with her friends. Though it was only momentary, it felt like centuries past where he was drowning among these bodies, afraid and struggling to breathe. Then, just like that, he was free on the other side, still right beside his two friends and the host who was bringing this treachery into his life. 

"Quite the crowd," Eddie grumbled to Stan, both Richie and Bill failing to overhear. Stanley smiled and bumped Eddie gently with his elbow, yet again delivering a small form of reassurance. The kitchen was emptier than the rest of the house, but there were still a fair amount of party goers within it. Among them, Eddie recognized Mike leaned on the counter at the far end with two other kind-enough looking people- he also recognized these two from the coffee shop where they'd met Richie. A tall, sturdy man leaned against one wall, watching with obvious heart eyes as a redheaded girl seated on the counter chattered away about one thing or another. Right at their side sat a massive punch bowl, half empty but with plenty of other bottles of soda and alcohol around it to refill later if need be. 

"Heya, you three," Richie greeted them with a smile and a wave, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Stan, Bill and Eddie, "I'm sure you all remember these guys." Richie spun on his heel, leaning his back against the counter and beginning introductions, "This is Bill, Stan and Eddie; and this is Beverly, Ben a Mike. Shake hands, maybe share a kiss, and give me another damn cup of punch." Eddie did none of the above, even when Bill moved forwards to do the first option. He shook hands with each new person in turn, and said his courteous 'nice to meet you'. Even Stan spoke up with a greeting and a small wave. Sure, Eddie felt like an antisocial asshole but he was having enough trouble keeping his asthma in check without touching a bunch of strangers. Speaking of his asthma, yeah, sure, it wasn't real or whatever but right now it sure felt like it was. 

"Care for a drink?" Beverly hopped down from the counter, motioning towards the stack of unused cups there for the taking. 

"Y-Yeah, hell yeah," Bill responded with a smile, "What... whu-what is it?" 

"It smells rank," Stan grabs a cup, leaning over and staring down into the bubbling liquid, "I'd love some." 

"This, my good friends, is what I call my 'Tozier Juice'- Orange juice, ginger ale, and lots and lots of alcohol, courtesy of Haystack over here," Richie patted Ben on the shoulder, sending him a friendly grin that much resembled the ones that Eddie and his two best friends shared- it was that of a close bond built on top of years and years of memories. 

"Th-that actually doesn't suh-sound too bad," Both Stan and Bill helped themselves to the drink, and then they turned to Eddie. Both seemed to know that he wouldn't be interested, but a cup was offered by Bill either way. "Sh-sure you don't want any? Not even just a glass?"

"Fuck no, I don't want to ruin my liver- or my heart, or brain or-" A sharp intake of breath, it hurts,"-pancreas, for that matter. Did you know drinking too much can increase your blood pressure? Have you ever heard of a stroke?" Eddie crossed his arms, the muscles in his shoulders tensing just at the thought of what this alcohol could do to him. He could drink too much, just a little too much, and then that would be it for him. He'd collapse to the floor and he'd die right here and now. "Plus, if my mom ever found out she would kill me, like literally-"

"Hey, calm yourself, Eduardo," Suddenly, Richie's arm is sliding over his shoulders, pulling him close, too close, to that mass of tangled dark hair that could possibly be housing every louse on the planet, "This is a party, you don't have to follow mamma's rules!" Eddie shoved himself away with a grimace, his lungs closing tighter in on themselves. The contact was too close, Richie was too strange, and now Eddie was only growing more and more frightened and uncomfortable. 

"Don't touch me, Richie! Jesus, that's-" Eddie shudders, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel anxiety building in his throat, climbing upwards and begging to be let out in a scream or something of the sort. Eddie hugged himself tightly, scrambling away from Richie and closer to Stan and Bill.

"Wow, Jesus, I-" Richie laughed nervously, and Eddie watched him exchange a curious glance with Stan, who only waved a hand dismissively. "Sorry, I, uh... I guess. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything." Without returning an answer, Eddie glued his gaze to the floor, feeling heat rise up his neck and into his cheeks. Now, tension hung in the air like a shroud and it was because of him. Shit. He didn't mean to ruin everything. For a minute, and then two then three then a whole fourth, no one spoke, simply sipping at their drinks and listening to the deafening music. With each second that ticked by Eddie's throat closed tighter. 

"So," Beverly broke the absence of speaking first, her voice raised to overpower that music that was still so loud, so fucking loud, throat tight, head pounding, "Tell me about yourselves. Rich tells me you're going to the same Uni as us? What classes do you have?" Bill took a sip from his 'Tozier Juice', and then responded in a voice just as loud as hers- he was too loud, now, too. His words begin to blend together into a collective hum, nothing but an indecipherable murmur as Eddie held himself tighter- he could hardly breathe, oh it hurt- The weight in his pocket was tempting, so tempting, and he wanted nothing more than to pull it out and take a puff, even if it was just sugar and water. The only thing stopping him was Stan and Bill on his either side, because they were against the placebo, they were trying to wean him off of it. Overpowering that murmur now was a sharp ringing, only pierced by the sound of collective laughter, too loud, suffocating. Eddie's face drained of it's colour, and no one seemed to notice. Can't breathe. He felt frozen, all of a sudden, rooted in place as if left in the cold for too long. He couldn't move his arms, his legs, and now his throat was growing tighter. He snapped his mouth open, fighting to suck in a breath- all at once, the sound came rushing back and it was all just too overwhelming. Eddie was gasping, fighting, snapping from his trance as all air fails to rush into his lungs. All eyes turn to him, Bill, Stan, Richie, Ben, Beverly, Mike- everyone is staring at him, looking at him, as he stumbles to the counter, his legs threatening to give out, Ben hurrying out of the way as Eddie almost falls right into him. The asthma attack was so sudden, so powerful- he had reached that tipping point, and gone tumbling right over the edge. Now, his throat was swollen shut, his head was pounding, that ringing was loud and the music was louder.

"Sh-shit, Eddie!" Bill was the first one to arrive at his side, and then everyone else. Every fucking person was surrounding him. He clutched onto the counter, still gasping, face paler than a sheet as he desperately fought against his reflexes. One powerful half of his mind screamed GRAB YOUR FUCKING INHALER EDDIE GRAB IT OR YOU'LL DIE YOU'LL SUFFOCATE RIGHT HERE AND- while the other half was shouting not to because then he was failing and when you fail you disappoint and he doesn't want to be any more of a disappointment than he already is. He gasps, sputters, grits his teeth and fights to reopen his throat but it won't cooperate. Strangers gazes bear into his back. He's the center of attention. His throat his shut like a vice.

"Eddie, hey, you okay?" Stan was there, a hand on his shoulder but that was too much, this was all too much and he didn't know what to do to stop it to stop the pain and the fear and the suffocation and he can't breathe. 

"Hey hey hey hey, what's happening Eds? What's wrong, what can I do?" Richie was here now too, stupid annoying Richie with his caring tone and the hand he sets on Eddie's. Just like the too-loud laughter had been what sent him over the metaphorical cliff edge towards an asthma attack, this overload of contact had been him hitting the icy waters below. Without a second thought he burst upright, both Stan and Richie falling away, and ripped his inhaler from his pocket. He pulled off the cap and stuck it between his lips, pressing the button on the top and sucking in the breath with a sudden jolt. Air passed, a minute amount, and he needed another puff, and then, finally, a third. Each one rocked through his body, trailing with it relief, euphoria, burning through his veins, his throat, down into his lungs until- he let out a gasp as the inhaler left his mouth and felt the guilt rapidly push the good feelings away. The entire group had gone silent again, until Bill stepped forwards to place a hand on Eddie's arm.

"A-Are you okay now, Eddie? Did it help?" His tone probably wasn't meant to be condescending, but that was the only emotion Eddie could get from it. No, Bill, I'm not okay and I'll never be okay because my mom fucked me up big time, Bill, is what he wanted to say but he didn't get the chance because now Stan was on his other side with that sickly sweet concern that Eddie doesn't really deserve and they probably don't really mean. 

"Can I get you water? Anything?" Eddie was quick to shake his head. Stan sucked in a slow breath, and let it out in a shudder. From his peripherals, Eddie caught the sight of him and Bill sharing a glance. He didn't miss the way Stan's lips quirked down into a frown, or the feeling of Bill just slightly shrugging one shoulder. He hadn't even been here for twenty minutes and Eddie was done. They were disappointed in him. He could sense it. Jamming his inhaler back into his pocket, he shook off both hands and set off to who knows where. He didn't know this apartment and he didn't give a shit. He needed to find a bathroom, a bedroom, a balcony, a something to get him as far away from the noise as possible. He hears them calling after him, Bill and Stan and maybe Richie too but the music swallows him whole as he pushes into the crowd towards what he thinks is a door to outside. He pushes, uncaring in it's entirety, needing to get out, away, to suck in the fresh air. His lungs feel tight again, but not as tight as before and he refuses to use his inhaler. He breaks free from the crowd and lets out a wheeze of a huff, falling into the door and shoving it open and closed as quick as possible. 

Just like that, it is calm. With one shoulder against the glass he can feel the reverberation, the bass shaking the building in it's place. It's quieter now, faint enough that he can feel thoughts swimming around like panicked fish. Eddie pushes off of the door and staggers towards the railing, letting himself lean on it despite what his mother would say. You're so high up, Eddie-bear, don't lean like that or you'll fall! You'll tumble right down all six floors and then you'll be done for! The mother in his mind continued on about something else, about him not loving her enough to take care of himself, about why does he hate her? What did she do for him to treat her like this? But he pushes those thoughts away and locks them in a tight little box so he doesn't burst into tears. For the first time he realizes that the rain is heavier now, pouring down in steady, thrumming sheets, blotting out the streetlights below and further muffling that music. The smell of petrichor and lightning fell around him, probing in through his open mouth and cleansing his lungs of the placebo. It was soothing, so much so that his eyes fell shut and his head tipped back. He let the utter pleasure of the weather soak into his skin, the chill biting at the tips of his nose and ears. He could catch a cold, his mother warns from inside his head, but he locks those thoughts up even tighter and tells himself he doesn't give a shit. With each deep, rain-tasting breath his lungs give way a little more until it's clear again. A few minutes pass of deep breathing, exercises he's learned through the years. Calm washes over him and now he doesn't mind the distant heartbeat of the bass. Time seeps by slowly and he doesn't mind it.

Behind him, the door opens, and the tension sets in again. 

"What do you want?" Eddie's voice is cold. He doesn't know who it is, assuming it's Bill or Stan and hating that he's not right. The music grows louder and then fades again as the door opens and shuts. 

"Hey, Eds," Richie shatters his peace with a tentative tone, and then he's there at his side leaning against the railing. 

"Don't call me that." 

"I, uh... I wanted to say sorry." The rain thrums on. Richie stands at his side. Eddie hates this party. "I... I didn't know..." Richie struggles to find the right words. The rain sounds like static, buzzing, hissing, calming. Richie should leave Eddie to enjoy this peace but he doesn't. "I didn't mean for this to happen." A heartbeat passes in time with the bass. Eddie finally answers, his words quiet, clipped, cold. 

"Get lost, Richie." Richie doesn't. Instead, his movements slow, careful, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two things- a packet of cigarettes, and a lighter. He doesn't waste his time offering one to Eddie, simply lights one for himself and takes a deep, sluggish inhale. All is quiet except for the static and the heartbeat of the bass. With an unwanted wave of vulnerability, Eddie feels his eyes begin to sting. The ocean inside of his stomach, tossing and turning and churning is made of liquid guilt. He feels horrible for failing Stan, for failing Bill, for ruining the party they'd both been so excited for. Richie takes another drag, letting out a cloud of smoke that's ripped away, sent spiraling, by the beating rain. As the party rages on just feet away, Richie stays with Eddie instead of leaving him to join back in on the fun. Eddie hates that he feels gratitude. Minutes pass, and the rain washes away the last traces of warmth. Before he knows it, Eddie is shivering, a gentle tremble that might have less to do with the cold and more to do with how exhausting it is to withhold his stinging tears. 

"Here," Richie slides one arm out of his black button-up, passes his cigarette to his now free hand, and then liberates the other. Without asking, he moves towards Eddie, placing the thin fabric around his shoulders to provide as much warmth as possible. Richie returns to his place from before. A few more moments pass when Eddie finally finds the stability to answer. 

"Thank you." His cheeks glow pink in the pale, black light, but Richie smiles anyways and simply nods his head. With his lungs clear and that warm gratitude calming the tidal waves of regret, he speaks in a low, quiet, shaking tone. "It seems you can keep your mouth shut, hmm?" This time, Richie laughs, a light chuckle that blends with the bass and the static in a perfect way. 

"I'm making a special exception, Eddie. Don't take it for granted." Richie bites on his cigarette. He lets out another cloud of smoke. The rain slices it apart. "But, hey," Leaning on one elbow and glancing Eddie's way through his thick-framed glasses, Richie looks almost nice, "I really am sorry. If I'd known you would been stressed or over stimulated or whatever, I would have warned you." Sucking in a slow breath and letting it out in a sigh, Eddie shrugs his shoulders, pulling the black button-down tighter around him.

"It's fine. I should have handled it better.- I'm the one who should be saying sorry" At that, Richie quirked a brow. 

"It's asthma, you can't really control it- unless that's some sort of super power." As an after thought, Richie added, "Pretty lame one if you ask me." Eddie held a hand out into the rain, soaking in the biting cold of each drop. It streamed down his hands, off of his fingertips. 

"No, it's... it's all bullshit. Nevermind." A heartbeat passes, "You shouldn't smoke. It risks lung cancer." Silence yet again. Richie didn't ask to leave, and didn't make any move to. Once he finished his cigarette he dropped it to the ground beside him and crushed it under his heel. The two simply stood, side by side with a few feet between, looking out into the rain and soaking in the peace. The party continued on behind him, but Eddie couldn't care less. While Stan and Bill were enjoying themselves, so was he, to a degree. Richie's normally overbearing aura had calmed, dulled, softening around the edges so now it wasn't as much a bright yellow as it was a soft red. 

"Eds?" Richie asked in a questioning tone, not shattering the fragile silence but rather parting it like hanging vines, "Can I make you a deal?" Eddie nodded his head. "Come by and buy coffee every once and a while and this whole ordeal is forgotten, no hard feelings. I'll make you my signature drinks on the house to apologize to you, and you come by and chat with me every few days to apologize to me." Letting out another sigh, Eddie said,

"Yeah, fine."

"And don't call me Eds."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): So, this is the first time I've done an all-Eddie chapter. I'll try to do an all-Richie one to make up for it, but who knows if it'll go like that or not. I'm really, really happy with this chapter. The ending feels really soft to me, and these two are finally tolerating one another to a degree. Don't worry, there's still more bickering and annoyance to come before Eddie considers Richie a friend :) Leave a vote if you wanna, and a comment or two would make my day. Thanks for reading <3


	5. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie wakes up the morning after the party with a pounding headache and a smile on his face, all thanks to Bev and her great news. A chill shift at the cafe brings just a little more joy into into his day.

Richie groaned as his eyes flickered open, and then squeezed right back shut. A beam of harsh grey light blazed in through his window, scorching out his eyes and sending a wave of pain and nausea throughout his entire body. Shit, he thinks to himself, How much did I drink? From the way he was feeling he wouldn't be surprised if he downed the whole punch bowl himself. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, a shiver running down his spine. Pulling his blanket closer to himself, Richie snuggled into the couch cushions and tried, desperately so, to piece together the events from last night. The party had gotten started pretty smoothly, he remembers, the music picking up and the people filing in. He'd polished off a cup by the time Ben, Bev and Mike had all arrived and then went for a second one. Richie had been the great host he was always known to be, soaking in the attention like a dry sponge, saying hello's and giving compliments and flaunting his favourite voices. At some point, just as he was growing a little more tipsy, the three new kids arrived; Bill, Stan and Eddie. That's when Richie had a third drink. From there, things began to blur, just a little bit- he could grasp onto small wisps of memory, Eddie's asthma attack, his little tantrum, and then the cold smell of the rain as the two stood on the balcony side by side. 

Richie's head was pounding all the more with the efforts of tugging back his thoughts. He decided to let the memory-digging go, since seeing through the fog in his mind took more effort than he currently had. He let his mind go blank and numb, simply soaking in the cloudy sun rays. The slight pang of dread that Richie felt next was result of a certain realization- he had to clean his stupid apartment. If this headache didn't let up, he didn't know if he could. Surely, the place would be trashed, because he encouraged that kind of party behavior and didn't mind if people got a little rowdy so long as they were enjoying themselves- the one thing that made him annoyed this time, though, was that usually Richie controlled his drinking a little bit better. He hadn't touched the faucet a single time in the last 12 hours or so, and mixing dehydration with excessive amounts of alcohol was a disaster waiting to happen. A door somewhere in his house creaked open, though he wasn't certain which it was. The way it slammed heavily led him to believe it was his front door. Maybe he should be alarmed, but he doesn't have the energy to feel anything other than discomfort. 

"Richie!" The voice of Beverly rang through the house and brought with it splitting pain. Wincing, Richie let out a loud groan and some unintelligible mumbling close to a string of curses. Bev stepped into the room wearing a too-bright outfit consisting of a bright yellow hoodie and black jean shorts that would have threatened to burn Richie's eyes right out of his skull if they weren't still screwed shut. "I brought you coffee, get up," Bev threw herself down onto the couch, right on top of Richie's legs, crushing them underneath her. She wasn't heavy, so it didn't hurt, but it was sudden and jarring enough to draw some choked scream from Richie's throat. His eyes snapped open and he flinched back, shielding them from the still-burning sunlight with a hiss. 

"Shit, quite the wake up call, Bevvie," He grumbled, pulling his feet from under the redhead just in time to see his other pal, Ben, stepping into the room with an apologetic smile. "Hey, guys, why don't you come in?" Richie's voice comes out sarcastic but still as playful as he can manage it. Beverly and Ben always stopped by without much notice- it was just how the three were. 

"Headache?" Ben asked, though his tone said he already knew the answer, "Me too. The coffee'll help." Taking a seat on Beverly's other side, Ben sipped at his own drink. From the expression on his face, Richie took it that he wasn't too fond of black coffee. 

"What 'bout you, Bev? How's your head?"

"You know me," Beverly clicked her tongue, jabbing her thumb in her direction, "The Queen of no hangovers. I'm just fine. That's actually the only reason I paid for your drink- I pity you and your weak, lanky-ass body." She reached forwards, grabbing Richie's coffee and shoving it into his hands. "Now drink. I have news."

"Oh? And what would this news be?" At last, Richie brought the drink to his lips, bracing himself for the dark, bitter taste that he had always despised. Just as he had expected, the urge to gag rose in his throat as the coffee went down. He held back that feeling of sickness, suffering through the discomfort and finishing off his sip with a grimace. Already, the throbbing in his head eased off just a bit.

"Well," Beverly looked over towards Ben, her grin stretching wide, "Richie, you know how I'm the greatest girl on the planet and you adore every thing about me?" Her lime eyes were physically glittering, as bright as the rainy-day sun itself. 

"No, Bev, I had no idea," For this, Richie got a punch in the shoulder that sent his head spinning again, "Ah, shit, I'm kidding!" He reaches up a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, letting a weak chuckle slip by as he took another sip of his coffee. 

"Well," Beverly continued without losing her smile, "I may or may not have gotten you that Eddie boys phone number-"

"What?" Richie cut her right off halfway through her sentence, his own voice bouncing around his skull and sending fresh, new waves of discomfort. "What did you say? Why? What did-" With a sip of his coffee, Richie shut himself right up. If he kept talking so loudly he'd probably vomit. With a shaky breath, he spoke a little quieter. "When, why and how?" 

"For your information I advised her against it. I know it's not her job to play cupid, but... she's relentless when she wants to be." Ben leaned forwards to look past Beverly as he spoke, setting his now-empty coffee cup down on the table in the process. The redhead rolled her eyes, pulling out her phone and holding a hand out to ask silently for Richie to pass her his. As he pulled it from where it still sat in his pocket, she leapt into an explanation.

"Last night I spent some time with those two new guys, uh... Bill and Stanley, they're named. They were super worried for Eddie, especially after you left to go 'comfort' him- you'll have to tell me how the comforting went later, by the way-" Bev opened both hers and Richie's contacts lists, transferring Eddie's number onto Richie's phone, "Bill told me he thinks you're too loud for Eddie's tastes, but Stan said that you two would get along fine with a little time. So, since I'm the only one here who is moderately in tune with my emotions I took the big step for you and asked for his number. You're welcome." Richie's phone was handed back to him again. He took another sip of his coffee and realized he wanted a cigarette. 

"I repeat- why?" 

"Oh, come on, Richie, he's exactly what you look for in a guy! He's short and he's just a little bit of an ass- also, have you seen him? He's adorable!" Bev grabbed Richie by the shoulder, pulling him into a side-hug that yet again disturbed his easing headache. 

"How do I even know he's into guys? What if he's straight as an arrow?" 

"Rich has a point, Beverly," Ben spoke up at last, only to be pulled into a side-hug all the same by Bev's other arm, "Is it fair to assume these things?" Beverly rolled her eyes, letting her head lean sideways to rest atop Ben's. 

"Fine, fine, I'll do some more digging before I force the two of you on a date together, but trust me- I have a sixth sense for these things." 

"Hah!" Richie scoffed, smiling, "Bullshit you have a sixth sense!" 

"Just text him or something, okay? Say you want to get to know the new kids better! Just give it a shot." All at once, the playful, light atmosphere in the room dampened, and Bev let both boys go, turning to face Richie entirely. "You deserve someone who'll treat you right, Rich." She took his hands in hers, a frown scrawling itself over her face, "So I won't stop helping until you do." Ben stood from his seat, crossing over to sit on the couches armrest on Richie's other side. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering up a small, warm smile. Richie felt a burning in his nose that often accompanied the urge to cry. 

"I..." He swallowed down the growing lump in his throat, then let out a shaky chuckle, "Thank you, you guys. I love you both." Richie pulled both Ben and Beverly in for a hug, letting their presence soothe him yet again.

***

The bell above the door let out it's happy little jingle and Richie's head snapped upwards, a smile spreading over his face. The day in the cafe had been pretty slow, which was unusual for a Sunday, but it was just nearing the afternoon rush so he was still ready for a flood of people. The cafe had been empty save for two other miscellaneous college students chattering in the far corner until now, as three familiar faces make their appearances.

"My oh my, what a fine morning it is!" Richie leaned on the counter, his smile turning almost goofy as he sunk into the persona of the Southern Belle, "A swell day to you, fine gentlemen!" The three reactions he received were all drastically different- from Bill, he earned a smile, from Stan a roll of his eyes- but a playful one, at that- and from Eddie, Eds, Eddie Spaghetti, a scoff and a scowl. 

"H-Hey, Richie," Bill waved as he arrived at the counter, scanning the overhead menus, "Can I hu-have a pumpkin spice with extra cinnamon?"

"But of course, sir Bill," Richie tapped away at his register, and then, with fluttering lashes, turned to Stan, "And what will you be desiring today, sir Stanley?" 

"Black coffee please- and can I get a blueberry muffin as well?" Richie nodded his head and continued to tap away, before finally turning to Eddie, though the shorter man was preoccupied with sending a glare in Stan's direction. 

"How can you drink that? You know that's like, 100% caffeine, right? You know it's not good to drink so much coffee? Until we're 21 coffee can mess with our brains and all sorts of shit." Stan let out a sigh, turning back to Eddie with a smile and a nod of his head, brown curls dancing with the action.

"Thanks for the warning, Eddie," he said sarcastically, "Are you going to order something?" 

"No way." Eddie turned back to Richie, shaking his head, "Uh-uh." 

"Alrighty then," Richie's smile was ever-lasting, amusement fluttering inside of his chest, "I'll get those ready for you in no time. You can go take a seat- word of advice, we're expecting a rush soon so you should go grab a good one." To accent his words, the door was pushed open, and in came another customer. 

"I'll do that," Bill offered, and hurried away for a table. 

"I have to go use the washroom- can you wait for the drinks please, Eddie?" Stan was already taking a few steps away, not giving Eddie a chance to decline, instead leaving him there sputtering, face overtaken by betrayal. He let out a huff, and moved for the pickup counter. 

"Hey, Rich?" Ben called from where he was positioned by a sink, drying his hands, "Mind if I take over the register for a while? I have stuff in the back ovens that needs to be checked every few minutes." Richie gave him the A-okay in the form of a jazzy thumbs up, and then he was backpedaling towards the coffee machines to start on the drinks just ordered rather than ringing other people up. "Thanks,"

"Anything for you, Haystack!" Richie got quickly to work. A black coffee, a pumpkin spice latte with extra cinnamon, and a blueberry muffin. Easy peasy. Bev should be into work any minute now, too, to make everything here just a little simpler. With his headache mostly gone, Richie was on fire, speeding around the empty bar with practiced ease- after a moment of feeling Eddie's gaze burning into his back, he shot him a glance, catching his eye- Eddie looked away at once. "Can I help ya Eds?" Richie asked over his shoulder, seeing the way just a little bit of red climbed up Eddie's neck. 

"Yeah," Eddie crossed his arms, wearing his usual grimace, "Are you aware of how unsanitary you're being right now? You aren't wearing a hair net, you didn't wash your hands after working the register- those are my friends drinks you're making and I can't just let you get them sick." Oh, that makes more sense now- Eddie was watching him, silently critiquing his work ethic. He wasn't just staring at Richie for the hell of it, of course not. Richie smiled to himself, pushing up his glasses and reaching for a cup sleeve and a lid for Stan's black coffee. 

"Thanks so much for the tips, Eds," 

"Don't call me that." 

"Fine, fine, sorry Eddie Spaghetti." There was a beat of silence, and then a,

"What? What did you just say?" Richie found himself laughing, putting the coffee in it's cardboard sleeve and securing the lid in place, pulling his pen out of his pocket, "Did you just call me 'Eddie Spaghetti'? What does that even mean?"

"It rhymes," Richie says matter-of-factly, and sets the coffee down after scrawling down a name, "Doesn't it?" Then, Richie is back to work with the pumpkin spice. 

"Yeah, of course it does, but it's stupid." Richie let out a gasp, pressing one hand to his chest in feign offence.

"I'm wounded, Eds! Truly wounded," Plucking a new cup from the stack, he put it under the machine's nozzle and tapped a few buttons, flicked a few knobs, getting the coffee pouring, "It's almost like you hate me or something!" 

"I do, basically. You're kind of annoying." Eddie's words came out muttered, and as Richie picked up the cup meant for Bill and turned in his direction he caught the way Eddie was picking at the counter top, eyes downcast. Richie thinks he's joking about hating him. Lid, sleeve, write down Bill's name- done. The cup is set down by Stan's and Richie takes a muffin from the display, slipping it into a brown bag. 

"There ya go, Spaghetti Man," Richie sets the bag down on the counter and Eddie gathers everything up, "Do enjoy, and don't hesitate to come on by again some other time. Maybe I can whip up another low-caffeine drink for you, huh?" Richie meets Eddie's gaze through his thick-framed glasses, and for a quick second Eddie looks as if he almost smiled. Then, he shrugs his shoulders, spins on his heel, and wanders away to meet Bill. For just a second, Richie stares- it's entirely momentary, no more than a flicker of hesitation before Bev is calling his name as she arrives and he's snapping out of his daze. It was just the blink of an eye, right? No one saw that, no one at all, and even if they did it doesn't matter because he was just distracted. Just a tiny bit out of it for a heartbeat. Richie gets back to work, everything just fine, perfecto- at one point a few minutes later he hears Eddie's laughter ringing around the room in response to the name Richie wrote on Stan's cup- he was glad to know that 'Stanthony' had gotten a laugh, and even more glad that that laugh came from Eddie. Again, Richie caught himself- he was only glad it was Eddie who was laughing because he wanted to be his friend, and so far the shorter boy had been giving him trouble with that. That was all. If Bev and Ben noticed the little spring in Richie's step, they don't say a thing, and neither does he. The rest of the shift goes smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Ah, yes- your all-Richie chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it- I also hope you're enjoying this story so far. I know that even if you aren't, I sure am enjoying writing it, so I won't be stopping any time soon :)


	6. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie isn't a morning person, and a certain text from a certain someone only makes that morning worse. Richie, high off of the feeling of a great day, is glad to have a few new friends.

Weak, cold, autumn light seeped in through drawn curtains, accompanied by the sporadic brrrrrringing of an alarm. The sound split the morning silence, tearing Eddie from his sleep, echoing through the entirety of the house more effectively than it was meant to. Eddie let out a groan, trying to reach out a hand and silence the mechanic screaming but just not being able to reach it- frustration sparked inside of his stomach for just a quick moment, and then someone else's hand came down onto the machine, cutting it off mid-ring. 

"You set your alarm late," It was Stan, and, not really a surprise, he was already entirely prepared for the day, "Hurry and get up. I'll go make sure Bill is awake. Water is boiled on the stove and I made eggs, too." Stanley was dressed in a pair of bluejeans, as well as a knitted blue sweater he'd loved and worn for the last three years. His hair was styled into it's chaotic, curly perfection, swept gently to one side- he was smiling, a morning person, bright and ready for the day even though it was hardly 7:00 am. Eddie envied that constant 'ready-to-go' attitude Stan faced each new day with, when he- Eddie- had to will himself out of bed every time he opened his eyes. 

"Thanks," He mumbled as Stan left the room, sitting up with a sigh and scrubbing his hands over his face to shake the sleep away. Eddie's jaws stretched wide in a yawn, and then he forced himself to abandon the comfortable warmth of his bed and crawl from under the covers. The air around him had a biting chill, the remaining after-effect of the rain that had been coming every now and again since Saturday, sending goosebumps breaking out over Eddie's skin as he made his way to his drawers, pulling open the topmost one to dig out a shirt. Settling on something simple enough, he pulled out a dark grey long-sleeved tee reading 'Back Pages' in bold white lettering and then 'Used Books and More' right underneath, in smaller print- Back Pages had been an- obviously- used bookstore from back in Derry, one of the only places his mother was actually moderately okay with him visiting. Along with the shirt Eddie pulled out brown pants and some miscellaneous belt, throwing the outfit together and running a comb quickly through his hair to tame the unruly bedhead. 

"E-Eddie?" Bill's voice came from outside his door, probably in the kitchen, still thick with sleep, "Do you wuh-want tea? Coffee?" Eddie continued around his room, stumbling through the semi-darkness, shouting back his reply,

"Do you know where my chamomile is? Do we have honey?" Eddie grabbed his phone, head tilted towards the door as he waited for Bill's reply- at last, he heard something akin to an 'okay', but more of a grumble than that. With one last glance in the mirror and a silent 'you can do this, Eddie' that was meant to pep him up, he jammed his phone into his pocket and swiped his backpack from where it had been set by the vanity. Grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door right open, Eddie stepped out and hurried across the hall to the kitchen. "My tea?" He asked right away, his gaze darting between Stan, and then Bill, both seated at the small dining table in the far corner- a tall, open window sat behind them- the sky outside was dull and grey with the promise of yet more rain. 

"Yeah," Stan nodded, motioning towards the counter right to Eddie's left, "It's poured and ready. Come eat, and hurry- I don't want to be late." 

"We won't be late, Stan, w-we've got over an hour." Bill patted Stan's back as he reassured him, partially amused by the constant anxiety and worrying Stan never seemed to stop with- though, of course, that anxiety was pointed towards more realistic things, when Eddie's own anxiety was, in his opinion, stupid and trivial and downright annoying. Eddie poured honey into his chamomile tea, sliding the rest of the scrambled eggs onto a plate, and then took a seat at the table. "Wuh-what classes do you guys have? I have English all d-day. Lit-literature and then luh-languages." 

"Biology first, and then Mathematics." Eddie's eyes brightened at Stan's words. 

"I have math second, too! Thank fuck- I suck at that stuff," Just as Eddie was about to continue, saying something regarding Stan and Bill's natural ability to do almost anything right, his phone beeped in his pocket and he remembered that he hadn't turned it on a single time since last night. He was quick to pull it from it's place, looking at his newest message- his brows screwed together, and he caught the skin of his cheek between his teeth, racking his brain to see if he recognized the unknown number that had texted him. 

"What's wrong with you? Are the eggs bad?" Stan tilted his head, leaning in his chair to try and glance over Eddie's shoulder to catch sight of the screen of his Nokia. Eddie held it just out of sight. 

"Do either of you know this number?" Rapidly, Eddie read it out, and it didn't ring any bells in either other boys brain. Bill shrugged, Stan lost interest- they both returned to their breakfast as Eddie read over the message once more. All it said was,

What ur schedule look like, penne? 

It didn't make any sense. Eddie texted back and then put the phone down on the table to dig into his own food.

Who is this?

The eggs were great, as usual- Stan was one hell of a cook even though he'd only ever learned from his own personal trial and error. A light conversation was picked up again, the first topic being that of the rain. Eddie barked out a few complaints about the grey weather, how he was afraid to catch a cold and wished he had a thicker jacket and maybe rain boots, or a car, actually, yes that would be ideal. Bill said he liked the rain, Stan said he was indifferent but was enjoying the weather for what it was. Through bites of food and sips of early-morning tea, the three finished up their eggs and tossed the dishes into the sink, ready to go any minute now. Before Eddie could slip into his shoes his phone beeped again and he was quick to swipe it up and look at the response. 

Cme on conchiglie! U rlly dont rmmber me?

Eddie scoffed, his brows knitting together once more. Through his sleep-haze he couldn't think of a single person he knew that he didn't already have in his contacts- at least, no one that would care about his schedule. He had a few aunts and uncles that he hardly saw but they wouldn't be messaging him now of all times, he didn't think. And what the fuck was 'conchiglie'? Eddie was clueless- Big Bill, one shoe on and the other in his hands, pulled up at Eddie's side in a silent request to be shown what was so odd. Without complaint other than a sigh, Eddie shifted the phone over, and Bill scanned the texts before letting out a bark of laughter and sharing an amused glance with Stan that seemed to communicate everything.

"Oh?" Stan said with a cheeky grin, realization donning itself on his face, pressing in on Eddie's other side to read the messages for himself, "He finally texted?"

"What?" Eddie tried to ask, but he was ignored as Bill said,

"What's with the pasta names?" Eddie was way more confused now. Again, he repeated his 'what?' and again he was ignored, "Penne? Conchiglie? I don't g-get it. What an i-idiot." Oh- just like that it clicked together and Eddie's jaw dropped open. Penne, conchiglie- pasta... spaghetti... Eddie Spaghettie- Eds- Eddie- Richie. 

"No, no no no no- Which one of you gave him my fucking number? What the hell?" Eddie jammed his phone into his pocket, rounding on Bill and taking in the expression on his face- it was amused, sure, but Eddie could already read the tiniest lines of innocence forming in his features. The way Bill's gaze flickered for a tenth of a second towards Stan told Eddie everything that he needed to know. "Stanley Uris what did you do?" Eddie spun to Stan, hands on his hips, glowering upwards at the much, much taller boy. Despite forcing every ounce of intimidation into his words as he could, Stan was grinning from ear to ear, sinister and ultimately unthreatened- his eyes were bright as stars and gleaming with mischief. "You know I hate that guy! He's- He's- He's so annoying! He's loud and he's rude and he's- I can't believe you!" 

"Edward," Stan said in an even, polished tone, redirecting his gaze to slip on his shoes, "One of these days in the near future you'll be thanking me for getting you out in the world," Bill let out a snicker, and Eddie jammed his elbow into his ribs, silencing him effectively, "You need friends who aren't just me and Bill. Richie, Ben, Beverly, Mike- they're nice people, and you need to get out of that shell of yours." 

"Oh, you're on to talk!" Eddie crossed his arms, and then uncrossed them just after to put on his shoes in a huff, "You're ten billion times more shy than I am, Stanley. I'm just fine with only you two as my friends, I don't need other people- I mean, I went 19 years of my life with no one but you two! I survived Henry fucking Bowers with just you guys to keep me safe! I don't need other people in my life." Now, Bill was cutting in and the tension in the hallway to the front door spiked upwards. Eddie realized now that the entire topic of conversation was about to change for the worse- shit, he'd let his mouth run, and now he was going to be pitied. Eddie hated pity. It made him ill.

"E-Eds, you cu-can't go your entire life with o-only me and Stan. I mean," Bill chuckled, his eyebrows slanted sympathetically, "I know we're g-great and all, but your muh-mother has kept you from having healthy social t-ties for your whole life. It's healthy to have more than o-one or two friends." The mention of his mother sent a tidal wave of homesickness propelling right over Eddie's head- a bitter, frightening, nasty homesickness- and suddenly he felt like curling up underneath his covers and crying his eyes out, but he wouldn't. He balled his hands into fists, gritted his teeth together, and turned to the door. His bag was slung over his shoulder. 

"Let's go." Eddie kept his head low and pulled the door open, pushing out into the hallway and going straight for the elevator without another word. Bill didn't want to let the topic drop just yet, but a nudge and a shake of the head from Stan was enough to get him to do just that- the shake of Stan's head said let him have this one, Big Bill. It's his first day of school. Give him a break. And so, the conversation was over, to hopefully be picked up again at a later date. 

\-----

Richie, earbuds in, King of Rock 'N' Roll playing at full volume, burst in a flurry from his music classroom and made a beeline for the stairwell at the end of the hall. Like some agile snake or cat, he dodged and weaved between other students as they poured from their own respective classes, determined to break out into the sunlight and share his contentedness with his friends.

"Tozier! Don't run in the halls!" Some teacher scolded him, but as Prefab Sprout continued jabbing away at his eardrums he didn't hear it- and he didn't really care to hear it either- he was too busy riding the high that the schools new set of drums had given him. Ever since Richie grew so involved with the rock genre and everything alike, he had wanted to learn to play the drums but had never been given the chance until today. Now, Mr. Carr had basically had to chase Richie from the class with a broom like he was some sort of radical street rat. With his big, goofy grin Richie sent himself flying down the stairs, taking them three at a time and not even wincing at the way his knees protested with every heavy landing. The doors to the outside were within his sights as soon as he touched down onto the first floor. Still pushing past other students, not even bothering with any courteous 'pardon me's' he was at them in an instant. In time with the thudding of the music, he shoved the doors open and went, quite literally, dancing and spinning out into the warming sunlight, which had just begun to peek through the clouds. From across the large expanse of concrete just outside the doors sat an emptying bike rack, and leaning against it he spotted more than the usual quantity of familiar faces. 

"Top 'o tha afternoon to ye, Haystack, sor! An' Mr. O'Hanlon, awful good!" As Richie pulled out his earbuds, music so loud it was still audible even as they dropped to hand at his side, he took a dramatic double-take and let out a loud gasp, "Well, if it isn't so!" Now, Richie was the Southern Bell rather than the Irish Cop, and he was taking Bill's hands in his and fluttering his lashes through his thick-framed glasses, "Sir Bill, and your noble companions! What have I done to be graced with your presences, my fair gentlemen?" 

"You know you'll ruin your eardrums listening to your music that loud, right? You can't fix Tinnitus- and if you go deaf you'll have hearing aids for the rest of your life." Eddie gripped the straps of his backpack, his eyes flickering down to Richie'e earbuds, which were dangling dangerously close to the dirty ground- much too close for comfort. Eddie almost shuddered.

"Aw, thanks for the concern Spaghetward!" Richie let go of Bill, moving for Eddie instead, and slung his arm enthusiastically over the shorter boys shoulders. In return, as if it were instinct, Eddie let out a sound like the croak of a frog and ducked away with a grimace. 

"Don't call me that, jackass!" Out of the entire group, the only one who was observant enough to note the faint red tint on Eddie's face was Mike, and he wasn't going to call the poor boy out on it. 

"I see you're all getting along swell, huh?" Richie's dark gaze shifted from Ben and Mike to Bill and Stan, and then, lastly, to Eddie, where they lingered for just a second longer. 

"Stan and Eddie were in math with me," Ben says with his small, kind smile, "Stan is some sort of super-genius or something- Eddie, too. I don't get it." Without missing a beat, Eddie let out an exasperated sound, shaking his head furiously. 

"No, no no, don't lob me in with Stanley. He's the super-genius, I just nod my head and act like I know what he's talking about." Stan was quick to decline. 

"Oh, don't say that. You're getting it." 

"Hey, Bev's in working at the cafe today- are you guys interested in stopping by with me, Rich and Ben?" The next one to speak was Mike, and his offer was met with a cacophony of different replies; Ben seemed content with the idea, his smile going wider at the thought; Bill was quick to agree, and Stan was much the same, though Eddie didn't see to thrilled. He let out a sound as if he was going to speak, but then he clamped his jaw shut, mouth a straight line, and bit his tongue. Richie himself was positively ecstatic. His already bubbly mood was only amplified by this suggestion, and his grin was so bright it could blind. 

"Oh, you have to come! The sun is out for once, you can't go curl up in whatever cave you're renting. Whaddaya say?" Swinging his backpack off his shoulders, Richie pulled his walkman free and clicked the 'pause' button, then proceeded to, unceremoniously, jam both it and the earbuds in his bag once more. 

"I'm down," Bill said, glancing at Stan, who nodded, and then at Eddie, who shrugged curtly and stared intently at the ground below his feet. 

"Great!" Zipping his bag back up and throwing it onto his shoulders, Richie moved to lead the way, and before the group knew it they were off, headed for the campus' outskirts and following their trusty guide, Richie Tozier, towards Portland Authentic. The stroll was quaint, amiable- Stan hung near the back with Mike and Bill, pointing out the different types of birds they spotted on the walk. Richie had thought every bird here in Portland was just some old rock pigeon, but now he knew that there were actually mourning doves as well. Ben was at Richie's side, hands in his pockets, his neck craned so that his face was upturned towards the sunlight. Eddie was, though reluctant, to Richie's other side, desperately trying to tune out the bird talk behind him. His annoyance was evident, but there was also a subtle fondness in his soft, brown eyes that showed how much he cared for Stan and his passions. 

"Does he talk about pigeons a lot? You seem peeved." Eddie almost jumped right out of his skin at Richie's sudden words, having been totally spaced out in his desperate attempts to disassociate. Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and scratched at the back of his neck. 

"Oh, uh," Eddie's gaze darted over his shoulder towards Stan, and then to Richie, and then back at his shoes, his worn black Converse sneakers, "Yeah. He loves them, but... I don't know why. They kinda-" Eddie cut himself off with a shrug, his hand dropping to his side once more, "Kinda gross, don't you think? With their weird feathers and their gross feet? All of their, like, diseases and shit?" Richie's cheeks had begun to hurt from the stretch of his smile. Something today was just making him giddy. His chest was tight with unadulterated glee, and it felt like something was pushing around in his stomach, like butterflies. Eddie was so impossibly earnest. The affection in his gaze directed at Stanley was heartwarming, the exact same kind of best-friend love that Richie had with Bev, Ben and Mike. Despite Eddie being disgusted by birds he was clearly still glad that Stan had something to be so passionate about- cute. 

"I dunno," Richie said, a tilt to his head, "I think birds are kind of cool. Especially magpies? Oh, God," Richie took a few steps ahead, and then spun on his heel to walk backwards, facing Eddie and talking animatedly with his hands, "If I had the chance I would have a pet magpie. They're so pretty- their feathers look all blue in the sunlight and stuff, and they get so fluffed out when they're pissed." Eddie looked dumbfounded, his brows furrowed, his jaw dropped- disgusted, that was the word for the expression he wore. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? A magpie? Those stupid, nasty black birds with the white chest? Jesus, what's wrong with you?" Running a hand over his face, Eddie let out a huff- Richie's smile grew, somehow, if that was even possible, at the distress his words seemed to have caused in the smaller boy. Seeing him all worked up like this made that weird feeling in Richie's chest grow tenfold. Brushing that thought away, still walking backwards, he let Eddie continue. "They don't know how to shut up. Every Spring, ever Autumn- they would be screaming away at the crack of dawn. I could never catch a wink of sleep. My mommy used to fire at them with my dads old BB gun, but she never hit any of them." 

"And thank fuck for that!" Richie scoffed, playful, "Those poor things don't deserve to be shot." Eddie countered with a quick 'yes they do', and then the bickering continued. Their back-and-forth, the lighthearted, heated-on-Eddie's-end banter felt perfectly natural. Richie would say some quip, some little thing about magpies that he found nice or cute or interesting, and then Eddie would come right back at him with why that was false. Richie probably should have been listening to these comebacks, but he found himself getting, more often than not, distracted by little things like the cinnamon-dusting of freckles across the bridge of Eddie's nose or the way his chocolate-toned hair was swept so tidily to one side, not a single hair out of place. Sooner or later, Portland Authentic had come into view, the glass windows showing through to the bustling interior. The after-school rush had just hit, and boy was Richie glad he had the day off today. As he pushed the door open, the bird conversation cut short, he noted exactly how busy it was. The line was huge, nearly reaching the entrance, and almost every single seat was taken except for one four-person table in the back corner. 

"I'll get the table." Stan's tone was serious, his gaze determined, "Get me a-"

"B-Black coffee, yeah," Bill was smiling, waving Stan off with one hand. At once, with a final nod of affirmation, Stan sped away to secure the seats. Though Richie didn't say anything, he thought to himself how the hell can someone like black coffee? because there were so many other options, sweet drinks, savory, peppermint or rich chocolate- drinking straight black coffee as a regular was basically a sin in his eyes. Slow and steady, the line progressed, Bev behind the counter working with two other people named Britney and Mason. Richie wasn't too fond of them and honestly pitied poor Bev having to deal with them all alone. It had been a good two or three weeks since she's been stuck in a shift without Ben or Richie at her side. Finally the group of five arrived at the till and Beverly's face brightened like a Christmas tree. 

"Rich! Ben! Mike, Bill, Eddie- Great to see you guys, my God, today has been absolute hell-" She seemed to notice she was getting sidetracked, and shook her head, frazzled, getting back into her working head space. "Sorry. What can I get you guys?" 

"An affogato for me, my dear, and- Hey, Eds, do you like ice cream? Whatever- Get a second one for him, too. He needs to branch out a little." Eddie gaped, seconds from a retort as Richie ordered for him, but then Richie stepped aside and shot him a glance that was unusually sincere. "Hey, don't worry. It's another low-caffeine one, and it's more vanilla ice cream than anything else. You'll love it, I swear." 

"Yeah, fine," Eddie set his jaw tight. 

"One bl-black coffee and an amer-amer-am-" Bill bit his tongue, screwing his eyes shut, and then, with a sigh, forced out the words, "americano. Jesus." Bev gave him a calm smile, a silent 'it's alright, dude' and turned to Ben and Mike who ordered a coffee with two creams and two sugars and a lemonade. Richie offered to pay, abusing his employees discount, and then the group all turned to the table in the corner where Stan was still seated with a book in his hand. As the group approached he placed the small origami crane he used as a bookmark between the pages of The Shining and tucked the novel away- the front cover had been battered and frayed, a sign of having been read and reread for years and years. Clearly, the book was cherished. 

"Great choice, Stanny," Richie complimented with a nod towards Stan's backpack, where the book had been hidden away, "You a fan of horror?" Stanley was quick to shake his head, hugging himself gently and running his hands along his upper arms. 

"I hate it. Bill is making me read it. It's torture." Bill let out a barking laugh as he took his seat, having pulled up an extra chair from another table. Two people would have to squish into the corners since this spot was only meant to seat four- no one seemed to mind. 

"So you're the horror fanatic, then. Glad to see we have something in common! What's your favourite movie?" Taking his own seat on Stan's other side, Richie held his head up with his hand, elbow planted on the tabletop, his curiosity officially piqued. Ben and Mike weren't fond of the gore-packed stuff Richie enjoyed, so Bev was the only one who ever went to the theater with him; the idea of having another friend to catch some films with was just swell. 

"That's tough to suh-say," Bill tapped his finger against the table, glancing sidelong at Eddie, "We went to see H-Halloween a few years back. I luh-liked that one a lot, but now wh-whenever I see it I think of when your m-mom found out-"

"Shut up, Bill," Eddie cut him off with a harsh glare, and then forced his expression to soften, covering up his snappiness with a red face and a sarcastic, "D-Don't remind me." It was clear he was embarrassed- Richie would have pressed, since he couldn't keep his trashmouth shut sometimes (all the time), but Beverly saved the day by hurrying over with a tray balanced precariously on one hand. Atop that tray sat the array of beverages that the group of six had ordered. With Beverly's fantastic memory, she began to hand out cup after cup to exactly who had requested them; Ben got his double-double, Mike his lemonade, Bill his americano, Stan his black coffee (Beverly knew it was for him even though he hadn't been at the till- not many people ordered coffee black and she remembered him from that first night.). Richie and Eddie were given their double order of affogato, an Italian coffee-based dessert consisting of a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a shot of espresso on the side. 

"Thanks, Bevvie," Richie bid her adieu with a two-fingered salute and then turned all of his attention towards Eddie, "Alright," he began, "Eds,"

"-Don't call me that-"

"-you're about to taste the best thing you've ever had in your life. Follow my lead," Richie plucked up the small one-ounce shot glass of espresso, and, reluctantly, Eddie did the same. In tandem, they poured the coffee over the ice cream, then grabbed their spoons. Eddie was the first to take a scoop, shooting Richie a glance that he couldn't decipher before taking the bite. For the quickest second his eyes seemed to light up, and then he swallowed down the obvious delight and simply shrugged his shoulders. 

"It's alright, I guess," He grumbled, and then proceeded to devour the next bite of the treat. Richie grinned wide, taking a scoop of his own and lifting it into the air, accepting his victory.

"I would like to propose a toast!" He called, and all eyes turned to him, "To Stuttering Bill, Stan the Man, and Eddie Spaghetti- Welcome to the Losers Club!" With a cheer from nearly all- Eddie settling for a small smile- the group burst into friendly chatter. Richie's toast held some sort of unseen monumental weight- everyone felt it- even Beverly, who was behind the counter and working away, had paused to raise her water bottle with bright eyes. Though everyone felt it- it, being that feeling of rightness- no one said a word. It wasn't necessary. Richie, Ben, Beverly and Mike had been a quartet for a few years now, as thick as thieves- they had called themselves the 'Losers Club' and, until Eddie, Stan and Bill arrived, the four of them had been the only members. No one could be certain what had changed, but, just like that, all seven knew that they were a singular unit. It was no longer Richie, Ben, Beverly and Mike. Now, it was Richie, Ben, Beverly, Mike, Eddie, Bill and Stan. The Losers Club with a capital L and a capital C. 

In a fleeting moment, Eddie caught Bill's gaze, and held it. The redhead was wearing his leadership smile, that easy-breezy full-face grin that so easily gained him respect. Once the two's eyes clicked, that smile shifted into something else, something softer, something that Bill reserved for Eddie. It was a brotherly smile- After all, Bill was the brother Eddie had never had. Bill was the rock, the island in the middle of the ocean, the one thing that never failed to keep Eddie sane, the solace in the storm that had been his mother, and was now the unfamiliar territory of Portland. In that smile was an unspoken promise, as well as something else. The promise was These people will keep you safe. The 'something else' was Bill's pride- his pride in Eddie. I'm proud of you, Eds, the smile said. You're doing great. For the first time in his life, Eddie was fearless. His own smile said Thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Okay, wow, sorry for dying for a while there. Motivation disappeared, computer was giving me trouble- whatever, I'm back now and I'm absolutely IN LOVE with this chapter. I think it's just so great. So wholesome. We get a little bit of view into Eddie's problems thanks to his mother, and we'll be seeing lots more of that in the future. What do you guys think of this chapter? Please don't be afraid to comment! Your thoughts are my main motivation. Even senseless screeching is more than welcome :) Thanks for reading!


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